


Resurrected Servitude

by TheAceOfVoid



Series: Ranbutler my beloved [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Tales From The SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (this was made before dsmp ended so if stuff is wrong, Hurt/Comfort, Nonbinary Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Post-Canon, RANBUTLER HEALING FANFICTION THAT WE'RE ALL LOOKING FOR, Ranbutler referred to as 'Moon', Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Trauma, enderman hybrid ranbutler, idk sucks I guess), platonically married Ranboo and Tubbo (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29305911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAceOfVoid/pseuds/TheAceOfVoid
Summary: After the masquerade, the butler explodes tnt under the egg room, collapsing the mansion on top of him and Billiam, killing them both in the process.Hundreds of years in the future, Tommy feels like practicing some necromancy.(WRITTEN BEFORE RESURRECTION WAS ACTUALLY USED IN CANON)
Relationships: Ranboo & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson & Moon
Series: Ranbutler my beloved [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152464
Comments: 110
Kudos: 594





	1. Botched Resurrection

**Author's Note:**

> I desperately needed to write this fanfiction.
> 
> I might write one later about Hubert and Ranbutler escaping (possibly in an au where its not the past?) but for now have this!

“I don’t think this is a good idea Tommy,” Wilbur says, voice humored but vaguely concerned as he stares at the same summoning circle that brought him back.

“It’ll be fiiiiiiiine,” Tommy says, setting out the objects with quick movements, a lot less specifically than Dream did for sure, “Anyways, what’s the worst that could happen.”

“You could send me back,” Wilbur says, “Or accidently die, or maybe you could take down everyone’s lives-”

“Wilbur,” Tommy says, voice calm, “None of that is going to happen, okay?” He says, voice reassuring

Wilbur swallows and nods, he has been getting better with his paranoia but it still is hard to not think the worst of things, he’s working on it.

“The worst that will happen is that nothing will, and thats not so bad, right?” Tommy says, sitting in the spot that Dream usually does, the resurrection book in his lap.

“Yeah,” Wilbur says, softly, though he still steps back from the circle like it will swallow him, “Yeah,,,,”

“Great!” Tommy replies, voice back to being loud and annoying, “Than let’s do this!”

“Who are you even planning on bringing back?” Wilbur asks, leaning against a tree.

“Mexican dream!” Tommy says, “Or maybe someone else, you said there were others in the afterlife, right?”

Wilbur nods, but cringes at the idea of being near mexican dream again, the year or two he spent in the afterlife with the man should be considered a trauma of it’s own, “Never talked to them, though, they weren’t really people, more of just faceless ghosts by than.”

Tommy nods, looking down at the book and taking a deep breath,

“⏚⍀⟟⋏☌ ⏚⏃☊☍ ⏁⊑⍜⌇⟒ ⍙⊑⍜ ⊑⏃⎐⟒ ☌⍜⋏⟒ ⎍⋏⍙⟟⌰⌰⟟⋏☌⌰⊬, ☌⍀⏃⋏⏁ ⌰⟟⎎⟒ ⎍⌿⍜⋏ ⏁⊑⟒⋔ ⏃⋏⎅ ⏚⌰⟒⌇⌇ ⏁⊑⟒⋔ ⟟⋏ ⏁⊑⟒ ☌⌰⍜⍙ ⍜⎎ ⏁⊑⟒ ⟒⋏⎅.” Tommy says, stuttering over words and messing up pronunciations, “⏁⊑⟟⌇ ⏚⌰⟒⌇⌇⟟⋏☌ ⟟⌇ ⏁⍜ ⎎⏃⌰⌰ ⎍⌿⍜⋏,,,,, ⏁⊑⟒-⏁⊑⟒ ⌇⟒⍀⎐⏃⋏⏁?" He says, stumbling over the last words.

The lights of the circle flash instead of simply lighting slowly like usual, and Wilbur gulps.

“Uh, Tommy, I don’t think that was right,” He says uneasily, inching towards the circle to yank Tommy out.

The circle flashes and then pops with a flash of colors, similar to a totem of undying, and Wilbur runs forward and grabs Tommy, dragging them back and out as it keeps exploding.

They both are sent back a few feet as it explodes, Tommy gladly protecting the resurrection book to his chest and clinging to Wilbur.

They hit the ground hard, the sound of explosions causing both to panic briefly and have to calm themself before they sit up, staring at the hole in the ground and coughing through the smoke before seeing a,,,, figure, in the middle, not as tall as Mexican Dream.

“Hello?!” Tommy calls, standing up and walking to the edge as Wilbur silently tries to get him away from the edge.

No one responds, Tommy and Wilbur look at eachother cautiously before looking back.

The smoke clears enough to view the figure in the hole, a youngish (14 to 15, if they had to guess) boy stands there, swaying back and forth, wearing a masquerade mask in a uniform akin to an old timey butler, collapsed on the floor.

“Shit” Wilbur hisses, jumping down quickly to the young boy, pressing his hand against his neck and next to BEGGING for a pulse.

When he feels the weak badump of one he sighs and lifts him, it is scarily easy even with Wilbur’s scrawniness after resurrection and makes concern pool in his stomach.

“Tommy,” Wilbur calls, forcing his voice to stay calm, if he starts panicking than Tommy might aswell, “I need you to message Techno on the communicator, he’s at the very least malnourished if not injured somewhere.”

Tommy nods, quickly pulling his communicator out and typing into it as Wilbur climbs carefully out of the hole, even though he could probably hold the young boy with one arm, balancing him while climbing is difficult and he is careful, there could very well be a wound he is unaware of that he doesn’t want to irritate.

Wilbur walks in the direction of Techno’s house, and as soon as Tommy finishes he rushes to follow, catching up quickly.

“Is he okay?” Tommy asks, worry lacing his tone.

“I don’t know,” Wilbur answers honestly, “But he atleast has a pulse, so he’s alive.”

“Who the fuck is he?” Tommy asks, and Wilbur thinks it is more of to himself than to Wilbur.

Wilbur keeps walking, and they soon arrive, the circle they set up close enough to Techno’s the walk doesn’t take long.

Philza opens the door as soon as he spots them out the window, trudging through the light snow that summer brings in the tundra.

“Are you okay? What happened?!” He asks, walking over before spotting the child in Wilbur’s arms.

“Tommy fucked around with necromancy, this kid appeared, he passed out immediately, his pulse is weak and he weighs like nothing.” Wilbur says quickly, “I didn’t check for any injuries.”

“God,” Philza says softly, “Bring him in, we’ll check him out.” He says, walking back inside, Tommy and Wilbur follow in quick steps.

Techno is already there, the table is cleared off and medical supplies sit out on the kitchen counter, ready to be used.

“What happened?” He asks, taking the small child from Wilbur as soon as he sees him, setting them on the table with gentleness not usual for the blood god.

“Tommy was messing with ressurection trying to bring back Mexican Dream and instead he was summoned, he passed out immediately and I think Tommy fucked up the ritual a bit,” Wilbur says quickly, “I didn’t check for injuries but his pulse is weak and he is at the very least malnourished if not starving.”

Techno nods, the kids clothing looks vintage, not in the way that it looks old, even though it seems to have a few years of wear and tear to it, but definitely not as much as it should for how old it looks.

Techno removes his suit jacket and winces as he looks at blood soaking the back of the kids dress shirt, quickly removing that too and setting them on their front on the table.

Their back is bruised deep purples, blues, and browns, with deep lashings crossing it in different directions, deeper marks were they overlap. The markings are deep and tear into their back, dripping blood down. Some are scabbed in varying levels of healing, though none seem properly treated.

Wilbur stares in horror at the marks, before quickly busying himself with washing his hands and rolling up his sleeves to help, filling a bowl with warm water and grabbing towels, handing them to Techno who applies pressure to the wounds.

Philza gently pulls Tommy out of the room to save him from seeing most of the gore, even though he already saw the wounds, as Techno and Wilbur work.

Once they stop bleeding as aggressively they work to clean and sew up the worst of them, the child does not move during this and Wilbur has to stop himself from checking that he’s even alive every few seconds.

They don’t trust the lack of food and general weakness of the kid to make him able to process a healing potion correctly, so instead they soak the gauze for the wounds in regen and lay them over softly, before bandaging on top so they’ll stay in place.

After that is done, they check for more injuries, there are strange twisting scars, on his spine and following his veins up his arms, but both refuse to believe they are the same type of scars they have seen so similar versions of on Bad and Skeppy and others infected by the egg. Plagues and sicknesses have existed in the past and Wilbur has a scar from how he died, it's probably just that. 

They set him up in the guest bed, not laying him on his back to irritate the wounds, and after Wilbur pull Tommy and Philza back into the main room while Techno cleans the kitchen.

“The worst of the injuries were his back, besides that was only bruises.” Wilbur says, watching as Tommy nods with a slightly distant look in his eyes, a child bleeding out on Techno’s table is probably not the best reminder for him.

“They’re probably from a whip,” Techno speaks up, setting up broth on the furnace, “Though I don’t know why he’d have them in the first place, the other resurrections had them sick but not injured, and he probably didn’t die from those.”

Wilbur frowns, “It could be because Tommy didn’t really do the ritual correctly,” He says, “maybe he kept other injuries he had when he died?”

Techno hums to tell Wilbur he heard but does not respond, nothing more to say.


	2. Clinging to hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sir Billiam was not always a terrible man.

Sir Billiam (the third) was not always a bad man, and he would fight that point until his second death.

No, he used to be good, when the posh voice and the jokes about poor people were all but jokes, when ‘lashing’ meant stern talking to and ‘no food for a week’ much the same. When he still had a name.

Being a hybrid in such a high up position made it a necessity, others thinking that he cared for those ‘beneath’ him could’ve made his seat get taken, any step out of line would be too far, so instead Billiam kept his care and worry beneath a facade in front of guests.

Hubert was the head butler, and he was the one who brought him in, a scrawny little hybrid orphan alone in a town full of people who didn't care for them, he got sick very quickly and Billiam had helped heal him, spending money on it, with the excuse that he needed another butler and that he couldn’t work correctly if sick, and he healed well.

Hubert taught him to read and write, how to clean and prepare meals, the right ingredients for potions, how to sew clothing, and were the passages in the manor are. He gave him his name before it was taken, and he remembers that he liked his name.

Billiam taught him things aswell, he had brought him outside and taught him how to sword fight, Billiam said it was just to make sure that he knew how to protect him, and he did not argue, he loved to learn and would accept knowledge no matter what excuse was used.

He learnt well, learnt quick, and he still remembers how Billiam told him he was a guard in the making, with the little smile quirking on his mouth, the way it made him blossom with pride.

The change was not overnight, it was slow, like most things, snapping more at other butlers and then at him, the punishments started, and he remembers his confusion when being withheld food became a true thing, usually only for a night, until it wasn’t.

Hubert was out the time he got his first lashing, it was over a simple thing, he had simply dropped a glass, not even an important one, but he had been dragged up into Billiam’s bedroom and told to shed his shirt.

Hubert found him about an hour later, trembling on the bedroom floor with a back dripping ruby red blood. Hubert had cooed over him and softly patched him up, fed him healing potions and left him to rest in his room for days, though he still heard the screams of Hubert and Billiam arguing through the halls and couldn’t make himself sleep.

Lack of sleep became normal quickly, a punishment that Billiam could give him that Hubert wouldn’t notice, that he could brush off to Hubert as just being stressed or forgetting.

The reassurance that he doesn’t need to make eye contact, one of his few enderman traits, that Billiam used to make disappear, but instead Billiam snaps at him to not, he never punishes him though, and he clings to it, clings to it as a sign that the old Billiam is there somewhere, one who cares about what makes him uncomfortable.

Other butlers started disappearing slowly, first one a week would ‘run’, and he would believe it with Billiam’s slowly gaining actions, before it became two a week, and then three, when it was one per day and he never saw them leave, he knew that Billiam was lying.

When he is allowed to sleep, whispers join his dreams, promising him a Billiam who does not harm him or give him lashings, promises him the one that offered him glasses of wine that he had to deny from his age and would receive a huff and a smile in response, promised of a Hubert he did not burden with his bad behavior causing punishments and instead spend his time reading when both were allowed a break.

He almost falls into them, sometimes, before pulling himself back.

It is soon, only him and Hubert left. Billiam starts having more parties, even though parties were normal to keep social standing high, one per week is strange, and so is none of the party guests ever leaving.

When he is cleaning near a painting one day and sees a room behind it, curiosity pulls him to slip behind it, and he finds it.

The Egg.

It whispers promises softly, pulling him with shaky steps forward, and the sound of Billiam walking through behind him surprises him.

“So you found it!” Billiam says, walking and placing a hand on his shoulder, the action so reminiscent of before this that he has to stop a sob from falling out his mouth.

Billiam calls him smart and curious and inquisitive, asks him to join him and The Egg, whispers the same sweet promises.

The first time he agrees, it is out of not wanting to be killed, as he hears the undertone of the promises, because he has always been smart and slick and knows how to get out of situations.

So he helps feed people to The Egg, it is easy, only the last of the ones alive is his duty, even though the blood staining his hands never seems to go away from his vision no matter how much he scrubs them, and he has to lie to Hubert that he just burnt his hand on the furnace when the bandages from scrubbed off skin are discovered.

Hubert doesn’t seem to believe him, but is more concerned with how skinny he is and the bruises under his eyes than that, so he doesn’t push.

Hubert protects him from the worst of the punishments, but stops trying to stop them completely, it is useless at this point, and gets Hubert punished more than once, but he still speaks up when Billiam goes too far, steals food for him and distracts Billiam so he can get much needed sleep, cleans his lashings with soft hands and a softer voice.

Hubert does not go by the rule of how many words he’s allowed to say, and tries to convince him not to, but he refuses, the lashings are not worth it, usually one per word oversaid.

When Hubert disappears, it is not a surprise, Billiam doesn’t even say what happened, just says ‘He ran’ like he lies with all the others, and he stumbles out the room in a haze, dropping to his knees, yanking on his hair, breathing heavily.

He opens his mouth and he screams but no noise is made, he feels like he is drowning, like the last anchor he has been holding onto has been ripped away and he is lost at sea, never to return.

When Billiam leaves again, as he does so often now that he’s lost most of his friends to The Egg, he sits in front of it sobbing, he says he hates it, says its disgusting and revolting, and The Egg sits there, humming and whispering like always.

“You can hate me or love me, it doesn’t matter either way.” It cooes, and he could vomit at how much it reminds him of Hubert, of a Billiam that isn’t terrible, of parents long forgotten, “As long as you feed me, I don’t care”

He finds himself there often when Billiam is gone, after the cleaning is done, listening to it’s whispers, it says it favors him, that it cares for him, that he could feed Billiam to it, but he refuses.

When Billiam says to a guest at another masquerade party that he has no name, he chokes on a response of what it is, and finds nothing there, no name, he is less than a person, at least a person would have a name, and he is not a person anymore.

He cries again when Billiam leaves after the party, sobbing to the egg, asking it why, why it took that.

“It’s the only thing left of Hubert, you’re better without it.” It replies, and he only cries harder.

He does not cry anymore after that, there is no point, and when Billiam finds him he gets punished, he gets used to the weeks without food, without sleep, and starts to find comfort in the ache and strain of overusing his body, the pain is the only thing he feels anymore, and it is an old friend of his.

He cleans past the point that he would, past the point where it’s meticulous, he feels like he never stops, like if he rests for a moment his body will collapse from under him and he’ll die, he’ll die and finally be gone, and he doesn’t deserve that sweet embrace.

When he gets punished he feels like he deserves it, he stops treating the lashings properly and instead bandages them, usually forgoing even gauze, and only changes them when he takes them off to receive more.

He finds a book, written by Hubert, and he learns that Hubert knew of the egg, tried to keep it from him to protect him, long before he found it behind the painting what feels like so long ago.

He learns there is TNT under the egg, set up by Hubert before his execution, if it goes off it will collapse the entire mansion, that Hubert planned to get him out before it exploded.

So he makes a simple plan, it is a mercy killing for Billiam, the man he no longer knew, and he no longer cares for his own life, so after the next party, he strikes.

Karl feels odd, clothing much too bright, he asks his name more than once, he says please when no one else has for so long, his jokes about the lower class have an undertone of sarcasm, of a joke, like Billiam had so, so long ago.

He does not feel sadness when he kills Karl, but he decides that it is more merciful than what is about to happen, he does not bring Karl’s body back to feed the egg, he feels like the strange man deserves more than to be a snack for a god, and it will all be over soon, anyways.

He simply walks in and looks at Billiam, both in the exact right spot, and presses the button Hubert hid.

He does not feel the pain of the explosion, or the sadness of his own death, or the happiness of the release, or the fear, but he feels calm, intimately, in a way that he hasn’t since he was curled under Hubert’s arm with Billiam on the other side, reading to them in an excited voice.

When he wakes up, in a field with spruce woods surrounding him, back sparking in pain, the sound of explosions making his ears ring, all he can feel is exhaustion and hunger.

It was the end of the week when he exploded the mansion, long since he had last ate or slept, and he thinks that resting his eyes for a few seconds couldn’t hurt, Billiam may punish him but sometimes he likes when he collapses, thinks that it is a sign of working hard.

He sways and then falls onto the floor, he sees the blue sky above and wonders if the roof of the mansion exploded somewhere, or maybe he was pushed out of it from the blast, and fades off into unconsciousness from that thought.


	3. A reminder of the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranbutler awakens for the first time, Tommy wants to help him, but finds him too much of a reminder of himself to be able to.

It is a few days before the kid awakes properly, Tommy is watching him like he has the last few days, curled up in a chair at his bedside, his only explanation is that he wished someone was like that when he first respawned, and this is similar. None of them have the heart to try to stop him besides pulling him away to eat and sleep properly.

Tommy sits up at the sound of the kid shifting around, looking as they sit up.

“Hi big man,” He says, keeping his voice soft, he remembers how Wilbur had described a splitting headache when he woke up after resurrection and does not want to make that worse if he also has one.

“H-Hello?” They reply, voice slightly hoarse and incredibly soft to the point Tommy struggles to hear it.

“Hey!” He says, still keeping his voice down but putting excitement into it, hoping that it helps the teen? Child? Not feel threatened, “You feeling okay?”

“H-how many words?” They ask softly, sitting up slowly.

“What?” Tommy asks, blinking.

“How many words am I allowed to say?” They ask again.

“As many as you want?” Tommy says, confused.

They look at Tommy uncertainty, fidgeting with the blanket under their fingers.

“Fine,” Tommy says, knowing they probably won’t go against this rule, though the idea of were it may came from makes him feel a bit sick, no matter how terrible Dream was, he was atleast allowed to speak when he wanted, even if he sometimes got hit for it, “One, what’s your name?”

They pause, looking at Tommy and blinking, “......No,” They say, voice sounding uncertain.

“What do you mean no?” Tommy asks incredulously, “Do you not have one?”

They nod.

“Uh, okay.” Tommy says, not really knowing how to respond to that knowledge, “I’m Tommy.”

They nod again.

“Are you,,,,, hungry?” Tommy asks, looking at the kid they look painfully malnourished.

“How many words?” They ask again, softly.

Tommy sighs, “Like I said, talk as much as you want.”

“Really?” They ask, looking legitimately confused in a way that hurts Tommy to the pit of his soul, the way that they seem so shocked at being allowed to speak.

Tommy nods, “Of course,” He says

They brighten up a bit visibly, “Oh wow, um,” They pause, fidgeting more with the blanket, “Is there anything I’m not allowed to talk about, you’re not gonna take this away right?”

“Of course not,” Tommy reassures quickly, “Now, are you hungry?”

“Um, yeah, I guess,” They say softly, “But it’s fine, you don’t need to give me anything!”

“Nonsense!” Tommy says, “I’ll get you something, be right back.”

He leaves the room carefully, walking out into the kitchen where Wilbur is cradling a cup of coffee across from Techno who is polishing his sword, with Phil humming while making dinner in the background.

“Uh, guys?” He says, “He woke up,”

Wilbur looks up quickly at that, “Is he okay?”

“Um, yeah but,,,” Tommy pauses, “He seems real nervous, and asked me how many words he was allowed to say and didn’t believe me when I said that he could say as much as he wants.”

“God,” Phil whispers softly, “Did you come to get him something to eat?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, walking up to the furnace were they had kept stew going for when he awoke, knowing he probably couldn’t stomach anything harder, “He said that we didn’t have to feed him after I asked though, it kinda reminds me of the mindset I was in after,” Tommy pauses, swallowing, “After exile.”

Phil sets a hand comfortingly on his shoulder and he leans into the touch very slightly, grounding him, “And if he is in that mindset we can help him out of it like how we helped you, okay? Everyone can.”

Tommy takes a deep breath and nods, forcing down all his anxiety, “Yeah, you’re right,” He says, “I’m gonna bring this to him now.”

“What’s his name? Did you ask?” Wilbur asks from his spot at the table,

“He said he doesn’t have one,” Tommy responds, and Wilbur visibly wilts.

“Oh,” He says softly, his voice taking on the soft echo that Ghostbur had when he was around.

Tommy walks back into the room that the person? (they really need to give him a name) was staying in, they haven’t moved from their spot at all, and Tommy doubts that he even moved at all.

“I brought you some stew,” Tommy says, slowly giving it to him, “We’d give you something more but we doubt you could stomach it.”

“It’s fine, it’s more than enough.” They reassure, Tommy frowns softly at the words but does not fight them, deciding that trying to argue will just make him take more time to eat, or possibly cause him to avoid it.

He eats slowly, looking up every few seconds as if asking Tommy permission, and Tommy always makes sure that he doesn’t seem angry, forcing their posture to remain relaxed as they thrum with anxiety for the child before them.

He finishes the bowl and hands it back to Tommy, thanking him softly, Tommy takes it with a nod.

“Well big man,” Tommy says, and the kid visibly startles a bit at Tommy talking, though he quickly settles and Tommy bites back an apology, instead choosing to act like he didn’t notice, “How would you like to pick a name, or at least something to refer to you.”

“What?” He asks softly, looking visibly confused.

“Just to make talking to you easier,” Tommy says, keeping his tone friendly, “You don’t have to keep it later, it could just be a placeholder.”

“My master would call me butler, or sometimes when I was bad he’d call me fool.” He states, and Tommy keeps himself from looking angry at the information, “But I don’t have a name.”

“Why?” Tommy asks, voice light, he remembers Wilbur asking him in a similar tone of voice why he reacted to certain things after exile.

“Because people have names and I’m not a person.”

Tommy’s eyes widen, staring at the person, the child in front of him as he states the words like they are so simple, just the truth.

“You’re a person.” Tommy says, unable to keep the emotion out of his voice anymore.

“No I’m not.” He answers simply, frowning slightly, “I’m sorry if you though otherwise.”

Tommy bites his lip to keep it from wobbling, the situation too close to home, and forces a grimacing smile.

“Okay big man,” He says softly, standing with the bowl, “Okay,”

He walks back into the kitchen robotically and sits at the table after setting the bowl in the sink, face in his hands, and he does not cry for the child he barely knows with no name and lashes across his back, he does not.


	4. Panic and Resemblences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno reminds him a bit too much of the past.

He does not know what to think about the person with the golden blonde hair who gives him food and lets him speak as many words as he wants.

He doesn’t know how much he believes him, so he says as little words as he can and eats slowly and carefully and waits for Tommy to snatch it away and yell at them for being improper.

He never does, but he walks out with a tight expression once he tells him that he’s not a person.

Oh, he did a bad thing.

He stays as still as he can, playing vaguely with the blanket draped over his legs, waiting for Tommy to stomp in and tell him his punishment.

He hoped it wasn’t lashes, he could deal without food or sleep, the dull ache and drowsiness if anything were a comfort until it became painful, it kept them from overthinking, pushed emotions he buried further down until he could probably never drag them up again.

He sits up straighter when he hears the door open again.

Tommy is a little red under the eyes and his smile is shaky.

“Hey big man,” He greets softly, sitting down next to him again, “Would you mind meeting the others here?”

“Others?” He echoes softly,

Tommy nods, “There is my dad, Philza, just call him Phil, and my older brothers, Wilbur and Techno.” He states, “There is also Ranboo, but he’s been gone a few days and will probably be here tomorrow.”

He nods softly in response, “I’ll meet them, if you wish,”

Tommy nods with a less shaky smile, walking out and saying something to the people outside,

A tall man with fluffy hair and a beanie walks in, he is pale and has an almost bluish tint at some parts,

“Hey, I’m Wilbur,” He introduces softly, walking over in smooth, semi-exaggerated movements, not wanting to frighten the child (they should really find a name for him),

“Hello,” He replies, voice soft, next to a whisper,

“It’s nice to see you awake, you were out for a while,” Wilbur says, sitting down in the seat Tommy was in before, “How do you feel,”

“Fine,” He says with a small shrug, a half-lie, he honestly felt quite terrible, but it wasn’t as bad as his worse days under Billiam’s care, so it was fine.

“Well thats good,” Wilbur says with a soft, kind smile, “When I respawned I felt terrible,”

“Respawned?” He asks, slightly confused,

Wilbur looks up at him, surprised, “Do you not know what respawning is?” He asks, careful not to sound angry with them.

He shakes his head ‘no’

Wilbur sighs softly, “Okay,” He says, “Can I ask you some questions first so I can explain it?”

He nods, tilting his head a bit confused,

“First off, are you aware you died?” Wilbur asks,

He pauses, he didn’t exactly think of how he got here, he assumed they probably just found him in the wreckage of the mansion, but the mention makes him remember some hazy place they wandered for a while, so he nods.

“Okay,” Wilbur says, breathing a small sigh of relief, “When did you die?”

“Uh,” He says, thinking, “XXXX I think?”

Wilbur pauses, processing the information and swallowing hard.

“That is a few hundred years ago,” Wilbur says, staring at the child in front of him, the old clothing making a lot more sense now,

His eyes widen, processing said information, atleast if Billiam survived he’d be long dead by now, guilt over being happy that his friend, the person who saved him, is dead burns deep in his stomach but he forces it down,

“Oh,” He just says instead, nothing more to say.

“Okay, so, did having multiple lives exist when you were alive originally?” Wilbur asks,

“If you could afford it,” He answers simply, remembering business partners of Billiam’s that had purchased hundreds of lives, like it was a petty object the same as diamonds and emeralds and not an existence in their hands,

Wilbur nods, “So, everyone has three of those now, so if you die you can come back twice, and on the third death you die completely,” Wilbur explains,

He nods, “So did I get more lives and that brought me back?”

Wilbur shakes his head, “No, you were already fully dead so that probably wouldn’t work,” He states “We have a, book, that can bring people back, it brought me back after I lost all of my lives, at the cost of some resources and being a bit weaker than I was originally,”

He nods, “So why was I brought back?”

“It was an accident, to be honest,” Wilbur says, “Tommy was just messing around with it, and you ended up showing up instead.”

“Oh,” He says softly, some part of him wished for a reason besides it just being an accident, “Sorry,”

“It’s okay,” Wilbur reassures quickly, “We’re not mad you’re alive, okay? If we knew about you we’d probably bring you back anyways, kids like you don’t deserve to die that long, especially with how bad of a shape you were when you died.”

He nods, he doubts Wilbur’s words, if they all knew about the egg and just how terrible he was they’d definitely have kept him dead.

“Okay,” He says, “Thank you, Wilbur,”

“No problem!” Wilbur responds, smiling, “If you ever want to tell us what happened, feel free to okay? We’ve dealt with our fair share of bad things aswell and we’ll do our best to help.”

He nods in understanding, though the idea of telling them makes him a bit nauseous.

“Do you want to meet Techno or Phil next?” Wilbur asks, “Or neither, if you want,”

“Techno?” He says, more of just a roll of the dice than actual preference, but Wilbur nods anyways.

Wilbur leaves and he can hear conversation but can’t pick any words out of it, before the door opens again.

He looks up and freezes like a deer in headlights, every instinct in his body telling him to run, to leave, because Billiam is here.

The man in the doorway is about the same height as Billiam was (because it’s him, its him, its him-) with long pink hair braided down his back, in slightly worn blue garb with a long cape behind him.

“I’m sorry,” Leaves his mouth before he can think of the amount of words he’s allowed to say, usually Billiam is less strict about the word count if he’s apologizing, “I’m sorry imsorryimsorrypleasedonthurtmeimsorryimsorry-”

He can vaguely hear footsteps as someone else enters the room quickly and he can see the brown haired one, Wilbur? From earlier.

“What happened?” He asks Billiam- Techno, looking like he is torn between approaching the panicking teen and dragging Techno out to give him space.

“I don’t know!” Techno says, “I just walked in and he started freaking out!”

Tommy walks in, drawn in by the noise, and sees the teen hyperventilating, arms wrapped tight around themself as they rock softly, curled in on themself.

“Shit, he’s having a panic attack,” Tommy curses, walking over in careful, predictable motions, giving him the chance to tell Tommy to go away.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Tommy says reassuringly, “Can I touch you?”

“No,” They sob, shaking their head harshly and Tommy nods, looking back at his brothers,

“Do you want them here?” Tommy asks, keeping his words simple and easy to understand, careful that his tone doesn’t sound too harsh,

“No,” They repeat, shaking their head again,

Tommy gestures at them to go and they leave, closing the door behind them with a soft ‘click’,

“Hey,” Tommy says softly, sitting down at the seat near him, “It’s okay, you’re safe, I’m sorry if either of them scared you,”

“Looks- Looks like him,” He sniffles out, still sobbing into his knees,

“Who looks like him?” Tommy asks, instead of asking who ‘him’ is, not wanting to risk pushing the kid further into panic,

“T-techno, I think that was his name,” He says, rubbing his face with his sleeve to wipe off tears, “Looks like him, my master, he hurt me,” He specifies, sniffling hard, “It’s fine though, I deserved it,” He reassures, more tears going down his face,

“Look, I don’t know specifically what happened to you, but if seeing someone who looks like the dude makes you have a panic attack, I don’t think you deserved whatever happened,” Tommy says, 

He cries harder into his knees and Tommy winces at how harsh his breathing is,

“Big man, hey, you need to breathe, okay?” Tommy says, “I know it’s difficult, but just try, okay?”

They take in a deep shaky breath and immediately cough it out,

“That’s good,” Tommy praises, “Just keep trying, okay, breath with me, we’ll breath in for 4 seconds, hold for 4, breathe out for 4, and then hold again, sound good?”

They nod shakily, trying to mimic Tommy’s exaggerated breathing with slow results, though Tommy is careful to tell him how good he’s doing with every try,

When they’re back to breathing a bit more correctly, Tommy goes and grabs them some tissues and a bottle of water, watching them clean off their face and sip the water,

“S-sorry” They apologize, voice a bit hoarse, “That was stupid,”

“No, it’s okay,” Tommy reassures, “It’s not your fault, you had a panic attack after something triggered you, it’s completely understandable,”

They nod softly, still sniffling a little as they wipe off their face, “Thanks for helping,”

“Don’t mention it big man,” Tommy says, voice kind, “Would you like to sleep? I bet you’re tired after that,”

He nods, and Tommy puts out the light in the room and leaves with a small wave.

He drifts off into fitful sleep in the dark room, curled up under the blanket.


	5. Others and Befriendings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranbutler meets Phil and Ranboo, and bonds a bit more with Tommy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally had no clue what to name this chapter so I'm sorry if the name sucks :<
> 
> The next chapter will get a bit more exciting! Well atleast more will happen, I just needed some set up first.

He wakes up the next morning to the same room as before, sunlight streaming through the curtains.

It is warm and comfortable and the feeling is so, so strange. Though they can’t shake the paranoia of doing something wrong from their bones.

He sits up, pushing the slightly heavy blankets off of his chest, and studies the room now that there is no one to distract him from it,

It is not the largest, compared to the rooms in the mansion, atleast, but it is comfortable, the bed he’s on pushed into the corner next to a table with a few medical supplies, there is a chair in a corner with a rug under it and the door is closed, he can vaguely hear talking from behind it.

He jumps when it suddenly opens, revealing a man with blonde hair like the other one, but he is noticeably older and a bit shorter, with a strange hat on, holding a bowl in his hands,

“Oh, hello mate, I didn’t expect you to be awake!” He says, looking as surprised as they are,

“Hello,” He responds softly, keeping his voice quiet incase he’s not supposed to be loud,

“I’m Phil, we didn’t get a chance to meet yesterday,” The man states, walking forward though his steps are tentative and careful,

He grimaces slightly at the reminder, usually he can atleast push down his panic until he is in one of the secret passages in the mansion, where no one can see.

“Would you like some food?” Phil asks, “I was bringing you some for when you woke up,”

“Oh, it’s okay, you don’t have to give me anything,” He assures, the idea of eating a meal so soon after his last one makes him a bit nauseous, after so many weeks of eating a meal a week if that.

“Nonsense, you’re not gonna heal if you don’t eat,” Phil says, smiling as he hands over the bowl,

He eats slowly, holding back gags at every bite. It tastes delicious, like what Hubert used to feed him before-

He decides to ignore that thought,

Even though it tastes good, every bite is hard to swallow and he feels uncomfortably full, he gets a bit more than a quarter down,

“I’m sorry, I can’t eat anymore,” He apologizes, he hopes that they don’t make him eat more, usually Billiam didn’t care if he didn’t eat once he had succumb to the egg, but these people are new and might have different rules,

“That’s okay mate, it’s probably a lot more than you’re used to huh?” The man says, taking the bowl from him. 

He nods, fidgeting uncomfortably with the sleeve of his shirt, a frown on his face. He really would like to eat more, he doesn’t know how long this treatment will last, but even the thought of taking another bite makes them want to gag.

The man, Philza, smiles at him kindly, it reminds him of Hubert in a way that hurts deep in his chest. He forces himself to swallow down the feelings.

“Thank you for the food, you didn’t have to.” He says instead, messing with the edge of the blanket laying on his legs,

“It’s no problem! When you’re hungry again just tell us and we’ll get you somethin’!” Phil states, smiling brightly, “I’m gonna bring this back to the kitchen, do you want one of the boys to come give you company? I bet it’s not too entertaining in this room,”

“If it’s okay, just- just not-” just not the one that looks like him

Phil softens, “Of course not, you don’t have to see him if you don’t want to.” He states softly, “But if it helps, Techno would never hurt you, okay? Whatever happened to you, we won’t let happen again.”

He nods, though he doesn’t believe the words. He thought Billiam would never hurt him too until he was trembling a bedroom floor bleeding from his back and left there for hours until Hubert found him.

Phil leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him. He likes it to be honest, a barrier between himself and, everything else.

It reminds him of the times he’d block himself into the hidden space in the bookshelf, the small squished space was strangely comforting, blocked away from the rest of the world, quiet.

His moment of peace is broken when the door opens again, revealing a tall person with skin split down the middle, half-black and half-white.

He freezes in place, wracking his brain for when he met them and finding nothing.

“Sorry, the others are a bit busy and I didn’t get to meet you before,” They say, wringing their hands together as they step through the doorframe, “I’m Ranboo,”

“You’re a hybrid,” He says, staring in shock at the person.

They pause, blinking, “Uh, yeah,” They say nervously, looking at the floor instead of at him, “Do you mind?”

He shakes his head, “No, no, uh, me too,” He chokes out, glancing nervously between the person and the wall next to them, not wanting to stare.

“Oh, cool!” They state, and he is shocked at how casual they are about this, are hybrids normal here? “What kind?”

“Um, enderman,” He says, speech stilted

“Oh cool! Me too!” Ranboo says happily, moving to sit at the chair near their bedside

He nods, staring down at his lap as they sit down.

The silence is awkward but he doesn’t know exactly how to fill it so he doesn’t.

“Do you have any hobbies?” Ranboo asks after a bit,

“I like to read,” He responds softly, the only thing that comes to mind,

“Oh, that’s cool! We have a ton of books here if you wanna read any!” They reply, “A lot are on greek mythology though,”

“That’s fine,” He says, he doesn’t really care what he reads about, he just likes consuming knowledge, being somewhere else.

Ranboo nods in response, and they go back into a more comfortable silence,

“Does anyone else live here?” He asks after a few moments, thinking over the cast of people he’s seen in his brain.

“Um, there is Techno, Phil, Wilbur, and Tommy,” They state, “I live nearby, and Tubbo visits a lot but he lives out in Snowchester,”

He nods like he understands half those words, a skill he’s mastered, “Will anyone else be here?”

“Someone might visit, but usually it’s pretty empty out here,” They say, shrugging.

He nods, before looking over at the door as the sound of footsteps approach,

It opens, quicker than Phil or Ranboo opened it, revealing Tommy, he has a bit of snow dusted in his hair and has a blue robe on, covering his red shirt.

“Phil said it’s my turn to talk to him Ranboo,” Tommy says, voice slightly whiny and Ranboo chuckles. He assumes it’s an inside joke of sorts.  
“Of course, of course,” They say, standing up, “It was nice meeting you, uhh,” Ranboo pauses, realizing they didn’t get his name

He does not offer one, staring at them blankly,

“Uh, bye,” Ranboo says, waving awkwardly as they walk past Tommy with quick steps,

“Hey big man!” Tommy says happily, “I hope you weren’t too bored by all of ‘em,”

“It’s fine,” He says softly, “I met Phil,”

“Oh, that’s good, we were plannin’ on introducing you two when you woke up again,” Tommy states, sitting down in the chair Ranboo was in a few seconds before, “Sorry about Techno freaking you out, we didn’t know that he looked like, whoever he looked like,”

“It’s okay,” He replies, voice barely a whisper, “I overreacted anyways,”

“No you didn’t,” Tommy says, and he blinks in surprise, “Something bad clearly happened to you, if he freaked you out than someone clearly hurt you bad, it’s their fault, not yours,”

He stares down at the blanket, rolling the words over in his brain, before nodding slightly,

“Yeah,” He says, “Okay,”

Tommy beams at him, “Well big man,” He says, “I know you denied this before, but would you be okay with us finding like, a filler name for you? Just so it is easier to refer to you,”

“Okay,” He agrees, “Like what?”

“I didn’t think that far,” Tommy says, putting his chin on his hand like he’s thinking deeply, he doubts it, “I’ve just been calling you big man,”

He thinks, trying to pull up names from the ones he’s heard over years of butlering the mansion, though none click.

“You could just call me butler, that’s what I was usually called,” He suggests,

“That’s a bit weird, it’s not like you’re gonna be butlering for us,” Tommy says, 

“I’m not?” He asks, confused, “Than why did you help me?

“Because you were injured and are a kid?” Tommy replies, seeming equally confused, “Also I was the one to bring you back, so I think that kinda makes you my responsibility,”

He frowns, “But I’m awake now, why haven’t you kicked me out by now?”

Tommy sighs, putting a hand to the bridge of his nose and he cringes slightly, afraid that Tommy is gonna lash out and hit him,

“Look, big man,” Tommy starts, “We’re not gonna throw you out, okay? I brought you back, and this is my family, so you’re our responsibility until you can take care of yourself, and you are certainly not in the state to do that right now, I doubt you could walk properly,”

He frowns, but doesn’t deny the claim, he hasn’t tried yet for a reason, and also because he doesn’t know if he is allowed, he has probably worked in worse condition, but he isn’t exactly jumping to get out of bed,

“And if you want to stay after that, we’ll probably let you, okay?” Tommy says, and he looks up in surprise, “Phil is basically always up to adopt another child, and you at least seem to be a lot calmer than the rest of us,”

“Really?” He asks softly, eyes wide, and Tommy nods, smiling at him gently,

“Of course, only if you want to,” Tommy says, “Anyways, I think Techno has some baby naming books laying around, wanna look for a name in there?”

He nods, a small smile gracing his face as Tommy walks off to get the book.

The idea of family warms his chest in a way it hasn’t been in a while, not since long before the egg, when he was comfortable calling Hubert and Billiam ‘family’.

Before he can dampen his mood more with his remembrance, Tommy comes back in with the book, a big smile on his face.

“Let’s get looking big man!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you like it think of leaving me kudos or following my tumblr @lucky_cr0w


	6. Reading to eachother is a love language

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ranbutler tries to get up for the first time, it doesn't go well, but at least he's less scared of Technoblade now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This chapter is a bit on the shorter side but the next one will be much more plot-related and will be coming out soon since it's already all planned out! I hope you enjoy this one :>

It is quite a few days before he even tries to get up and leave the room, even the thought of it makes him a bit lightheaded,

But he feels like he has stayed in bed long enough, he has worked in worse conditions, so one day when left to his own devices, he slides the blankets off of him and stands up,

The dizziness hits immediately, making him suppress a groan as he has to lean heavily on the bedside table to not be sent to the floor, their vision goes completely white and their ears ring painfully loudly,

He waits for the dizzy spell to pass, no other option, and sighs in relief when it starts to fade.

He pushes himself upright, vision still slightly blurry, and forces himself to let go of the bedside table, stumbling slightly as he walks to the door,

He leans on the wall heavily for a minute, breathing deeply, before pushing himself up again and opening the door carefully, peeking out into the hall,

It is colder than in his room, all the heat kept in from the door remaining closed, and he shivers uncomfortably as he steps out, 

The hallway is empty, and much smaller than the almost endless ones in the mansion. He walks down it with shaky steps, keeping a hand on the wall to stabilize himself,

He walks into a living room, chairs circled around a warm fireplace, and freezes in place when he sees the one who looks like his old master sitting in one of them, reading a book,

He is considering running back to the room when the man looks up, making less than a second of eye contact which he immediately breaks, both fearing punishment and the discomfort eye contact brings,

“Oh, hullo,” Techno says, “I didn’t expect you to be out of bed,”

“S-Sorry,” He stutters, curling his arms around himself, “I-I can go back if you want,”

“It’s fine,” Techno assures, “You should probably sit down though, you look like you’re about to collapse,”

“Am I allowed to?” He asks softly, 

“Of course,” Techno replies, and he gratefully goes and all but collapses into a chair, struggling to stop himself from shivering violently even with the heat from the fireplace,

“Th-thank you,” He stutters out, curling in further on himself,

Techno nods, turning back to his book,

He stays as still as he can while shivering intensely, not wanting to anger the man (who looks SO much like Billiam and it kinda makes him want to cry-). He can’t stop himself from staring at him out of the corner of his eye every few seconds, to check he hasn’t moved, that he isn’t angry,

Technoblade doesn’t move much, besides flipping the page to his book every few seconds, every time he has to suppress flinches and whimpers at the movement, though that is gladly a skill he got from Billiam. Usually flinching away resulted in more punishment,

“Are you okay?” Techno asks after a few minutes, looking up at him with concerned eyes,

“Y-yeah, why?” He answers, fidgeting uncomfortably from the attention, 

“You’re shaking,” Techno responds, stating the obvious, “You also could barely stand and are staring at me like I’m holding a sword to your throat,”

“S-sorry,” He responds, barely a whisper, “Sorry, I’ll stop,”

Techno sighs, closing the book, and he suppresses another flinch away, “That’s not what I meant,” He says, “I’m not mad.”

“O-oh,” He responds, looking down at his lap, “Sorry,”

Techno huffs again, “Can I check your temperature?” He asks, not moving to get up until given permission,

He nods, not wanting to face whatever punishment he may get for denying, and goes perfectly still as Techno rises and walks towards him, 

Techno sets a hand against his forehead, the action is strangely soft and he is stuck between absolute fear that Techno is going to draw back and hit him (like Billiam) and sorrow over the nostalgia of being cared for (oh so long ago,)

Techno draws away quickly with a small tisk, “You’re burning up kid, you probably should’ve stayed in bed,”

“Sorry,” He says softly, tensing all over, expecting a hit,

“It’s fine,” Techno says, sighing, “Do you think you can stand? We should get you back to bed,”

He nods, standing up and almost immediately having his legs collapse under him, having to be caught by Techno,

He can’t suppress a whimper this time at the touch, “I’m sorry, i’m sorry, I should’ve stayed in bed, please don’t hurt me,”

Techno softens, “I’m not gonna hurt you, okay kid? I am just gonna pick you up so I can carry you back to your room,”

He nods, more out of fear than actual agreeance, and goes completely limp as he is picked up, whimpering as the lashes on his back are brushed.

“I know it hurts, you’re doing good,” Techno soothes softly, holding him under the legs with his chin on Techno’s shoulder to not irritate the injuries further, “I’m going to start walking now, okay?”

He nods softly, clenching a handful of Techno’s shirt as he is carried in careful steps back to his room,

Techno opens the door with his shoulder, laying him down softly on the bed, deliberately putting him on his side so that he doesn’t put pressure on the lashes,

He curls up on the bed, pulling his knees to his chest like it can stave off the chill over his entire body,

Techno pauses for a few seconds and then sighs, unclasping his blue cape and draping it over the child like a blanket,

He blinks and looks up confused, but pulls the cape further gratefully,

“I’m gonna get you some stuff for your fever, okay? Just stay here,” Techno commands softly.

He nods, watching as Techno walks out the room in careful footsteps,

He wonders why he feels so terrible suddenly, being sick is not a new thing for him, the lack of sleep or eating made him get ill very easily, but he felt fine before he got up, or maybe he just wasn’t paying attention to it.

His head hurts, and he has to stop himself from yanking the cape over his head to block out the light that only makes it feel worse.

He looks up blearily as Techno walks back into the room, he sets down a few bottles at the bedside table that he can’t discern, 

“I’m going to help you sit up so you can drink these, and then you can lay back down and sleep, okay?” Techno explains softly and he nods, letting himself be maneuvered up and leaned against the wall, the cape wrapped around his shoulders,

A glass bottle full of a sparkly pink liquid, lukewarm to the touch, it reminds him of the poison potions he was forced to brew for Billiam, 

He looks up, frowning, would he be forced to drink this? Would it hurt him?

“It’s just a regen potion,” Techno states, “It will make you get better quicker, make your immune system work quicker,”

He sighs and takes a drink from the bottle, almost gagging from the flavor. Unlike poison potions, which are disgustingly bitter and sour, almost like curdled milk with a slight iron aftertaste, this is sickeningly sweet, not in the way sugar is sweet, more artificial than that. If he wasn’t so used to the terrible taste potions he’d probably puke it up onto the floor immediately,

Instead he sips through the potion, next to gagging the entire time, while Techno watches him,

He hands back the empty bottle, half-expecting the painful pangs that poison brings but instead his headache eases slightly, the lights less painful and his vision a bit less hazy,

Techno holds out another bottle of a perfectly clear liquid, “It’s just water, to keep you hydrated,”

He nods, sipping the water slowly, “Thank you,” He whispers, looking up at the taller man,

“Don’t mention it,” Techno says simply, “After you finish that you can sleep, do you want me to stay here?”

He nods nervously, this time telling the truth, he doesn’t like being alone to suffer while he’s sick, it brings back bad (recent) memories,

“K, I’m gonna bring my book into here, do you want me to read something to you?”

“Huh?” He asks, confused,

“I could read you something, I did it for Tommy all the time when he was sick when we were younger, helps you sleep or somethin’”

“Uh, sure,” He responds, 

Techno nods, “Do you know about greek mythology?”

“What’s that?” He asks, unable to stop the curiosity from sinking into his tone,

Techno smiles slightly, barely visible, if he didn’t have practice with Billiam before the egg he’d never notice it, “It’s these tales from some people who lived in a place called Greece, they made stories about beings they called gods and believed in them, some still do,”

“Do you?” He asks curiously, sipping at his water,

“Some,” Techno says with a shrug, “There’s probably some truth to it,”

He nods, “Can you read some of it to me?”

Techno nods, “How about the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice?” He recommends, pulling out the book he was reading from before, “It’s a classic,”

He nods excitedly, curling up in the cape to listen properly,

“So it starts with this man named Orpheus, he was the son of apollo, god of Music and Sun and all that,” Techno starts, voice going into a deeper lull,

Being sick and not being forced to work through it is strangely boring. A lot of it is taken up by him reading, Techno has made it a point to come and read something to him at least once per day, which he starts to look forward to.

When Techno is not there someone else usually watches him, he doesn’t particularly know what they expect to happen if they look away for too long but he doesn’t question it, spending most of his time reading, a growing pile of finished books at his bedside.

It is a few day before Tommy bursts in like usual, but unlike usual he is holding a box, bouncing in place happily,

“Big man!” He greets, he never chose a name so Tommy has just referred to him as that so far, “We got you something!”

“Oh?” He asks softly, curiously, staring at the box in Tommy’s arms,

Tommy walks over and sets the box down in his lap. It isn’t particularly heavy, but definitely has some weight to it, though the box shows no markers of what’s inside,

“Go on, open it,” Tommy encourages, smiling brightly at him,

He opens the box in careful motions, staring down at the semi-monochromic, blue clothing inside,

He pulls out each piece carefully, the clothing is thick but not particularly heavy, meant for the weather of the arctic he only recently learnt he is now living in.

“What is this?” He breathes, staring down in amazement at the gift,

“Well, you’ve been with us in a bit, and just been wearing those clothes clearly not fit for the weather, so we decided to make you some clothing to match us,” Tommy explains, “The blue is for the Arctic North, which is were we are, it just shows people you’re part of us so no one will mess with you,”

“Thank you,” He says gratefully, “Thank you,”

“Don’t mention it!” Tommy says, smiling brightly, “Do you want me to leave so you can change? You don’t have to put it all on right now since you’re inside, but you are probably a bit cold,”

He nods, standing up slowly to avoid being sent to the floor as Tommy leaves the room, pulling out the clothing.

He puts it on carefully, the lower layers are pretty similar to his old butler uniform, thicker to help with the cold and probably easier to work in. Over that there is a soft pull-over sweater probably to wear around inside if he gets cold.

There is also a pair of thick woolen socks with snowflake embellishments that he slips on, definitely gonna help with the cold more than the thin worn out ones that Billiam supplied him so long ago and had long since become next to useless.

He keeps off the more outerwear looking clothing, but folds them carefully and sets them in the drawers of his bedside dresser.

The clothing is darker than the others, more monochromatic, but with a blue enough undertone that it is visible. Though there is a thick, woolen shawl with a symbol on the back, matching the capes that the others have.

It makes him feel warm inside, being accepted as part of a place, part of this family.

“I’m done,” He calls softly, standing nervously were Tommy could see him when he walks in,

Tommy opens the door, looking at him before his smile brightens minutely, “Lookin’ good big man!”

“Thanks,” He says softly, a very small smile on his face, “They’re very comfortable,”

“Yeah, we’re planning on making you some more, but we thought you’d wanna change as soon as possible,”

He nods, “Thank you, Tommy,”

“No problem!” Tommy assures, “You’re one of us now, okay?”

“Okay,” He responds, unable to stop the grin on his face, “Okay,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why on earth could he be suddenly getting sicker? I wonder :)


	7. Swordfights and Explanations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SBI (+Ranboo) ask Moon what exactly happened to him, it goes about as well as you'd think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter pog!!! Vague TW for this one having mentions of blood, killing people, and also mentions of vines growing into someone's skin, so if those would be triggering to you, be careful!

He leans on the fence, watching Wilbur and Tommy spar in the snow, laughing and mocking each other. The sword’s they’re using are wooden and dull, for training.

“Come on Wilbur, your GHOST fought harder than this!” Tommy crows, dodging under a swipe with practiced ease,

“Shut up you stupid gremlin child,” Wilbur shoots back, laughing, “How about you actually get a hit on me before trash-talking,”

He watches as they exchange blows before coughing wetly into the fabric of his shawl, wincing at the pain it shoots through his lungs and throat,

“Are you sure you’re okay to be out here?” Ranboo asks from next to him,

He nods, “I’m fine,” He says, voice a bit choked from the cough, “Phil said I should stand anyways to clear my lungs, and the fresh air might help,”

Ranboo nods slowly, “Just tell us if you need to go in, alright?”

“He’s a big man, he can handle himself!” Tommy calls from the battle field and immediately gets bonked on the head by Wilbur’s sword,

“Focus on your opponent you idiot!” Wilbur says, laughing as Tommy rubs his head,

Tommy swipes at Wilbur angrily, more of trying to hit him than actually sword fighting, while Wilbur dodges the blows, laughing at Tommy’s rage,

“I don’t think this is training,” He remarks softly, 

“Yeah, they’re just getting energy out,” Ranboo says, watching them fondly, “Do you know how to fight?”

“A bit,” He responds, frowning at the memory of blood and feeding and how tiredness seeped into his bones from having to drag dead bodies to The Egg, “Part of my butler duties to protect my master,”

Ranboo nods, “Once you’re better you can join if you want,” They state,

“I’ll think about it,” He mutters in response, some part of him not believing that he will be able to hold a sword against someone without driving it through their chest on instinct.

He shakes off the thought and it sends him into another coughing fit, Ranboo having to move to rub soothing circles into his back to stop it.

He eats slowly through his stew, not wishing to get sick from eating too quickly.

Tommy is across from him, having no such care and all but shoving the entire bowl down his throat while Wilbur yells at him to slow down. Ranboo is next to him, watching the argument. Philza and Techno are doing the same, Phil clearly amused and Techno vaguely annoyed.

He has to stop spikes of anxiety at that, Techno is not Billiam, Techno is not gonna randomly stand up and hit him or drag him to his bedroom to give him lashes and then leave him. He will not poison him or starve him or force him to stay awake, he is fine.

He notices his hands are shaking and sets down his spoon, folding his hands in front of him to try and hide it.

Ranboo notices and he curses internally, unable to stop the sudden fear, but instead Ranboo softly leans towards him very slightly and whispers, “Are you okay?”

He nods shakily, not trusting his voice and not wanting to alert anyone else.

Ranboo doesn’t look convinced, he suppresses a flinch as they reach over and unfold his hands, before grabbing one softly in their own, rubbing soothing circles onto the back of his hand.

He relaxes slowly into the touch, focusing on it and his breathing, letting the voices of the room fade into the background.

What had they called this, grounding? Yes, grounding, being in the present, kinda funny, as he was not paying attention, but it certainly helped.

He slowly focuses back on what’s going on around him, not much has changed, unsurprisingly. He gives Ranboo’s hand a soft squeeze to show that he’s back, but Ranboo does not pull away, letting him choose if he wishes to.

He does not, so instead both maneuver to try to eat one-handed. He settles back into listening to Wilbur and Tommy’s arguments, they never seem to be actually mean, just small teasings, and he finds them entertaining.

Dinner finishes up soon after that, him and Ranboo having to separate to pick up. He cleans up his own dishware, no matter how many times they tell him it’s okay it just feels wrong to not, and sets his teeth on edge uncomfortably.

He is about to walk to his room when Philza stops him,

“Hey mate,” Philza calls softly, “How about you sit down, we just wanna talk to you about something,”

He walks mechanically back to his chair at the table, sitting down stiffly, back straight and hands in his lap, clenched into tight fists.

The others make their way back into their seats and he stops himself from trembling.

_He wonders what he did wrong, are they going to punish him? What would they even do, they said they wouldn’t do the normal punishments, but that doesn’t mean they were telling the truth, Billiam lied all the time that he wouldn’t punish him so he’d admit it and then punish him more, or maybe they would do something worse, something that he hasn’t had to go through before and he’ll have to get used to that-_

A hand touches his back and he almost screams as he flinches away from it, looking up to find Wilbur there, a worried look in his eyes,

“Breathe,” He soothes softly, carefully setting his hand back on his back, “We’re not mad at you,”

He nods shakily, trying to get his breathing back under control.

After a few minutes and him slowly becoming calmer Wilbur draws away, sitting at his seat,

“Sorry if you thought we were mad big man,” Tommy apologizes, “We should’ve probably phrased that better,”

“It’s fine,” He whispers, voice just a bit hoarse, it has been for a while, not used to talking so much,

“We understand if you don’t want to talk about it yet,” Phil starts, “But we were wondering if you could tell us what happened to you before you ended up here,”

He swallows nervously, “W-what do you want to know?” He asks, fidgeting uncomfortably with his hands in his lap,

“How about we start simple?” Wilbur suggests, “You said you used to work as a butler, right? How about you tell us about that,”

“Um, okay,” He responds, “I worked under my master,” He refuses to say his name, “Since I was quite young, and he would give me things like food and shelter.”

“So you weren’t paid?” Techno asks, sounding slightly angry at the fact, and he winces softly,

“No,” He admits,

Techno frowns slightly but gestures for him to continue with his original point,

“I did normal butler things, I guess, cleaning and stuff,” He says, “That’s it really,”

“How’d you get the marks on your back?” Tommy asks, receiving a hissed ‘Tommy!’ from Wilbur,

“Punishment for staining the carpet,” He states simply, almost casually, “Lashings,”

Tommy, Ranboo, and Wilbur all look horrified while Phil and Techno just look like they had knowledge confirmed, though still look solemn.

“Um, what other punishments did you get?” Ranboo asks nervously, 

“Not eating, though that wasn’t too bad unless I got it a lot because I wasn’t fed much anyways,” He says calmly, “Not sleeping too, lashings, having to drink poison, beatings sometimes,”

“That’s terrible,” Wilbur breathes, staring at him with wide eyes, “And what would you get punishments for?”

He shrugs, “Anything that he wanted, really, not being quick enough, breaking or spilling things, eating food when not given permission, sleeping when not given permission, simple stuff, I was just bad at following the rules,”

“No,” Tommy argues, hurt on his face, “You didn’t deserve that, big man,”

“But I did,” He states softly, the same way someone says simple truths, the sky is blue, grass is green, and he deserved it, guilt burns deep in his chest with memories of bloodstained shiny swords and vines that grew into his skin, “I did bad things and faced consequences,”

“Mate,,,” Philza says softly, his gaze is so kind and it hurts because he knows he doesn’t deserve this when blood stains his hands so clearly,

“Kid, look at me,” Techno commands and he snaps his head up, “You don’t have to make eye contact,” He says after a second, and he shifts his gaze away from his eyes gratefully, “You don’t deserve what happened to you, okay? No matter what you did, you are a child, and you didn’t deserve any of that,”

He whimpers against his will, pulling his legs up to his chest, memories of driving blades through people’s chests, screams of terror echoing in a manor, staring at a pulsing red egg in terror as the vines slowly grow over his skin but unable to muster the will to get away from it. 

“Can I go to my room?” He squeaks out, unshed tears are blurring his vision and his chest feels compressed, too tight and every breath is shallow.

“Of course,” Philza says, though he gets the idea that Phil would’ve rathered they could ask more questions and curses himself for being such a baby over something he did wrong, “Sleep well,”

He nods, standing on shaky legs and stumbling to his room in quick, silent steps, closing the door with a soft click and having to stop himself from collapsing against it, instead making the few steps to his bed.

He doesn’t sleep, he cannot, instead stuck in a loop of terrible, horrid memories. He stays silent, he is good at staying silent while like this.

He wonders if he’s the reason Hubert left, or was Hubert killed like the others, no send off even given from one of his closest friends? He almost hopes Hubert just left because he was sick of him, instead of being fed to the wretched thing he worked for.

His hands feel wet with blood that isn’t there, and he refuses to look in fear that it will be there, that this is a dream and he’s still in the mansion, that he’ll wake up and have to spill more blood and see Billiam again.

He is pretty sure breathing is usually easier than this, but it’s been so long since he’s been able to breath without his lungs feeling like they’re full of water, or maybe the same crimson vines that cover the room in the mansion.

He is trembling hard enough he thinks he might just fall into pieces, the idea shouldn’t be as calming as it is, being unable to harm anyone else, maybe it’d be like death, nothing, nothing to focus on or see, just void.

His exhausted, overused body passes out eventually into a hazy, nightmare-filled sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moon,,,,, poor boi,,,, sweet child.
> 
> Since it is mentioned but it's a bit easy to miss, the reason moon isn't going by 'moon' yet is because Tommy and him never picked a name! It's going to be picked soon though, don't worry :>
> 
> Also you don't understand how difficult it is to write from the perspective of someone with no name.


	8. Sickness is a synonym for Infection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon's status just keeps seemingly getting worse, what could be wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it happens a few times in this chapter, here is everyone's' filler name' until Moon chooses/remembers his own.
> 
> Tommy: Big Man/The Big Man  
> Techno: Kid or sometimes, fondly, Kiddo  
> Philza: Mate
> 
> Wilbur and Ranboo are just waiting for him to choose a name and avoid referring to him using one! :>

He gets worryingly worse over the next few days, the sickness that was seemingly fading coming back full force,

Technoblade doesn’t come into the room on the worst days after he does one time and the kid falls into sobs, begging to not be harmed and that he’ll be good, Tommy has to come in to physically keep him in bed, it isn’t good.

They are all in the main dining room when they hear a loud thud followed by scrambling, Tommy immediately jumps up to check on the big man himself, bursting into the room, scared he’s being attacked or something, maybe a mob got in?

He is on the floor tangled in the blankets, whimpering and sobbing, eyes glazed over and clearly not processing what's going on.

Tommy softens, walking over carefully and reaching down,

He flinches away hard, sobbing loudly, “I’m sorry, please don’t put me back there or tie me up please I’m sorry,”

“No one’s gonna trap you,” Tommy soothes softly, reaching down again, slower this time, brushing a hand through his hair, touching the blanket would probably not help at this moment,

“I-I’m sorry I’m sorry I’ll behave I promise I can do what you want please just don’t put me back,” He sobs, voice slurred, not even hearing Tommy,

Tommy frowns, reaching down to softly start unwrapping the blanket, not enjoying how much he flinches back from it but thinking it’d be better to remove the trigger sooner than later,

He sobs harder, babbling incoherently as Tommy carefully removes the blanket and picks him up, limp as a ragdoll,

“I’m sorry Billiam, I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me,” He sobs into Tommy’s shoulder,

Tommy freezes, he’s never said names before, almost purposefully omitting them, Tommy gets it, he could barely think of Dream’s name for months after exile without panicking, however hearing him say them was still shocking.

“I’m sorry, please, I want Tommy, where's Tommy?” He asks, voice whimpery,

“I’m right here big man, see? I’m right here,” Tommy says softly, anxiety rising in his chest at the fact that he’s now delirious enough he won’t recognize someone holding him,

“Really?” He asks, voice slurred enough it’s hard to understand,

“Yeah, right here, you’re safe,” Tommy soothes, “You should go back to bed now, okay?”

“Okay,” He responds, letting Tommy tuck him back in, laying the sheets over him carefully so they won’t tangle around him again.

By the time Tommy finishes he’s out cold, face flushed red from fever, Tommy frowns from it, grabbing the damp cloth from the bowl next to the bed and wringing it so it doesn’t drip and laying it softly over his forehead,

Tommy walks back out, apparently either the look on his face (or the noise of Big Man crying) was enough to tell the others what happened,

“He doing okay?” Wilbur asks softly, worry clear in his voice,

Tommy sighs, sitting down hard in his seat, “No, he- he didn’t even recognize me, thought I was his old ‘master’ or whatever, kept asking me to not hurt him and that he’s sorry,”

“Fuck,” Philza whispers, “If he doesn’t get better we’re gonna need to call someone with more medical knowledge to help, I can deal with flus and Techno knows battle injuries but this is bad,”

Tommy nods in agreement, continuing to eat the food he had to leave to go help the sleeping boy a few rooms over, anxiety curling deep in his gut over whatever's happening with him,

He promises he tries to be good for Billiam and Hubert, he does! Really! Ever since they found him as a scared malnourished orphan when stealing from a bank in some middle-of-nowhere town and took him in, he tried to be good.

No matter how much Hubert and Billiam told him that it was fine, that they wouldn’t hurt him no matter what and they wouldn’t throw him out, he still tried to be good.

Maybe it’s why he got used to Billiam’s punishments so easily once the Egg got him, some feeling of deserving it all this time.

He takes it as penance for years of being a terrible, horrible child for them both, of forcing them to stress over him when he’s sick (he gets ill oh-so-easily), them having to teach him to cook and clean and read and sword fight, for them having to hold him while he cries and his chest feels like it is being compressed with hundreds of pounds of gravel making him unable to breath,

Every kill adds onto the guilt, piling up until his shoulders might snap from the neverending pressure, Atlas held up the sky and he holds the weight of the world just the same. He lives in fear that it will finally crush him under it.

It does, it did, when he stared at Billiam for the final time as he accepted his death with no mourning, no fear or sadness or anger, only a void caving in his chest surrounded by bloodvines that dug into his soul long ago, consuming any trace of happiness or freedom or home and leaving him empty and wanting.

It’s so hard to breathe, to think, to feel. He does not deserve Tommy and his loud voice that he quiets just for him, Wilbur and how he can hum and sing much better than Hubert or Billiam ever could and slowly sings him to sleep, Techno with his care hidden behind a monotone voice and stoic face, Philza and how his presence screams of home and fatherhood and care, Ranboo’s nervous kindness and how their hand feels so comforting wrapped in his, rambling for hours if allowed.

He doesn’t deserve it when blood still feels like it stains his hands, when he realizes that the vines left scars down his back and his arms covering up his veins. The idea of them still being there panicked him enough that he started scratching to try to check and they had to put gloves on him.

Days pass in a haze, he wakes up tangled in something he can’t process and cries until someone walks in, a vague shadow in his vision, he cries and begs him not to hurt him, assuming it to be Billiam, tying him up as another way to trap him with the fucking bloodvines and the stupid terrible Egg that whispers lies into his ears,

It is just Tommy, who soothes him with soft words and tucks him back into bed to fall back into sleep, too sick for his brain to even dream.

He sits up long later, immediately feeling pressure on his shoulders forcing him back down onto the bed gently and groans slightly at the feeling, throat dry and breath wheezing,

“I know honey, I have something for you to drink alright?” A voice says softly, a hand running through his sweaty wet hair and he nods weakly,

A bottle is placed at his lips and he drinks gratefully, it has a strange sweet taste of a healing potion, but clearly watered down,

It soothes a bit of the pain in their throat and head, the warmth from the blaze powder used in potions makes his chest feel warm,

“There you go,” The person says encouragingly, taking the bottle away, “How are you feeling,”

He whimpers softly in response, “Bad,” He rasps softly, “Tired,”

“Sleep than,” The person says, running their hand through his hair again before drawing away, making him whine,

He opens their eyes blearily, catching sight of long pink hair,

“Techno,” He mumbles softly, reaching out a hand weakly,

He pauses and looks back around at him, walking back over and taking the hand into his own softly,

“Do you want me to stay?” Techno asks softly,

He nods weakly, eyes drooping, “Don’t leave,” He begs weakly, voice slurred,

“Of course, I’ll stay right here,” Techno promises, sitting back in the chair next to the bed, keeping their hands laced as he falls back into sleep.

Wilbur is awoken one night by the sound of quiet crying, getting up quickly to check on the younger ones of the household,

Tommy is fast asleep, curled up in bed with a small grin on his face, cute.

Ranboo is in a similar state, sleeping peacefully in bed.

He goes to the last room, opening it slowly to reveal the child they resurrected sitting in bed, back against the wall and crying softly into his legs,

He walks over carefully, sitting down slowly on the edge of the bed, letting him be aware of his arrival,

The child looks up slowly, face tear stained and eyes puffy from crying,

“Hey buddy,” Wilbur says softly, it reminds him a lot of when Tommy would wake up from nightmares as a small child, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” He whimpers and Wilbur’s heart breaks just a little bit, “You’re all trying to get me better and I’m still sick and useless and not helping you,”

“Hey, none of that,” Wilbur says, “We brought you here, we’re taking care of you, none of us are mad that you’re sick, we’re just worried,”

He frowns, tucking his head into his legs more,

Wilbur scoots back next to him, wrapping an arm around him comfortingly, but lightly enough he could easily be pushed off, “We brought you back and now you are our responsibility, and we enjoy you being here, you’re part of the family, this is what we do for eachother, and next time Tommy or Ranboo or, I don’t know, Phil get sick than you will help them than, right?”

He nods, leaning into Wilbur’s chest, Wilbur guesses that he’s exhausted, sickness and crying stealing all of his energy,

Wilbur starts humming softly, letting the tune start, drawing it out a bit more than necessary,

“I heard there was a special place, were man could go and emancipate, the brutality and tyranny of,” He yawns, “Their rulers,”

“Well this place is real, you needn’t fret, with Tommy, Tubbo, Fundy, Eret, It’s a very big and very blown up L’manberg,”

“My L’manberg, my L’manberg, my L’manberg, my L’manberg,”

He pauses, looking down at the now asleep child, smiling fondly, works every time,

He carefully lays him down, tucking the blankets over him again and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, walking out quietly.

Philza is quite well versed after a few centuries of adopting children to caring for a sick child, or caring for a child in any state, really (it’s the staying around after part he’s working on),

That doesn’t particularly mean he enjoys it, seeing people he cares for in pain and distressed is never enjoyable,

But when ‘mate’ (as he has kindly dubbed him until he picks otherwise) walks out of his room with Techno’s cape trailing behind him, much too big around his shoulders, eyes glazed and bleary, swaying slightly and eyelids drooping, he can’t help but think it’s kinda cute,

“What’re you doing?” He asks, voice mumbling and slurred,

“Getting ready to make lunch for everyone,” Phil explains, gesturing at the cut vegetables and other things for stew, they’ve been having a lot of it recently (mostly with mate being so sick) but none of them really mind, “What are you doing out of bed?”

“Couldn’t hear anyone, got worried,” He mumbles, stumbling over, the cape dragging behind him, Phil stifles a laugh at it, “Where are they?”

“They’re out right now getting some things, they’ll be back, I promise,” Phil says, stepping away from the vegetables to put a grounding hand on his shoulder, “Let’s get you back to bed, okay mate? Then you’ll get better quicker,”

He nods weakly, leaning against Phil a bit for balance as he’s lead back to bed, curling up in the cape,

“Sleep well mate,” Phil says quietly, smiling fondly at the half-asleep boy on the bed as he slowly shuts the door,

Ranboo wouldn’t say they’re the best at helping people, sure they get most of the problems, they can understand, but actually helping is were they struggle, 

So they don’t really like being left with the one Tommy resurrected, it’s not that they don’t like him! Quite the opposite, he is quieter and doesn’t set off their anxiety as much and very polite, it’s just difficult to know if they’re actually helping or not,

So when they’re left to take care of him while the others are out doing something (they don’t really know much, maybe they were told and just forgot), they aren’t really having the best time,

They, even though it’s probably a tiny bit mean, kinda wish he would stay asleep for most of the day like he does sometimes so they don’t have to do anything and possibly mess up, but that is not in the cards and he wakes up about an hour after the rest of them left,

“Ranboo?” He asks softly, looking over, he gladly looks more alert than he has most days, less bleary-eyed and confused, though still not fully there,

“Hey,” They greet back, keeping their voice quieter so that they don’t set off a migraine or something, “How are you feeling?”

He pauses for a few seconds, looking a bit nervous about answering, before saying, voice soft enough that Ranboo struggles to hear it just a bit, “A bit hungry,”

Ranboo resists the urge to scream in excitement, because this is progress, he went from actively telling them they don’t have to feed him to admitting that he is hungry and wants food, instead they keep their face as neutral as they can to not scare him and nod, “I’ll get you something,” They say, standing and walking out of the room, shutting the door before throwing their hands up happily, resisting the urge to jump up and down,

They calm themself again and walk to the kitchen, they started keeping a pot of stew going for when he wakes up, just to make sure he is eating something,

They carry it back carefully. He is waiting for them, sitting up in bed and looking around tiredly,

Ranboo sits down next to him, he seems to take a few seconds to actually process Ranboo being there, looking up at them slowly,

“Do you think you can feed yourself?” Ranboo asks, keeping their voice gentle, he doesn’t seem to do well with having others do things for him (even if he needs them to), not like Tommy did, he doesn’t get mad, just anxious they’ll get mad at him, so they try to make it as easy for him as possible to accept said help,

He nods, taking the bowl with shaking hands and balancing it in his lap, grabbing the spoon but struggling to actually lift it to his mouth, dropping it a few times,

Ranboo (very gently) takes the spoon but not the bowl, knowing how he’d react if the food was taken (badly) and putting it to his lips, him opening his mouth to accept the spoonful of food,

“Can I take the bowl so this is easier? You will still eat it, I just don’t want to spill on you,” Ranboo says, careful to not sound annoyed or frustrated in any way,

He nods, moving his hands so Ranboo can grab the bowl easier, they do and get another spoonful, putting it to his lips again.

They repeat the action until the stew is all gone, feeding him gently, who (thankfully) accepts the help, clearly getting more tired as time goes on,

Ranboo puts the spoon back in the empty bowl, “Do you want any more?” They ask, not expecting him to, he struggled to finish a few bites when he first got here and it hasn’t been that long, so two of them is probably still a while away,

He shakes his head no, “I’m tired, can I go to sleep?” He asks, a twinge of nervousness in his tone,

They nod, “Of course, you can sleep whenever you like,” They say, “I’m gonna put the bowl away and then I’ll be right back, okay?”

He nods, laying back down, curling up under the blankets as Ranboo goes to put the bowl away,

He is shockingly not asleep when Ranboo comes back, though clearly on the verge of it as they quietly sit back down in their seat,

He reaches a hand towards them tiredly, open, they blink at it confused for a second before taking it in their own, lacing their fingers together,

He smiles very softly, easily missable if they didn’t have a few years experience now with living with Techno,

He dozes off into a peaceful rest, Ranboo sitting nearby, trying to one-handedly write into their memory book, refusing to let go of his hand.

They are honestly a bit surprised when he walks into the kitchen while they’re having dinner, clearly out of it to the point of non-recognition, confusion clear on his features,

“Hey mate,” Philza says, very carefully rising out of his seat, “You should get back to sleep,”

“No, no, I can’t, it will get me if I sleep,” He responds, more to himself than to Philza, curling his arms around himself anxiously,

“What?” Phil asks softly, “What will get you,”

“Bloodvines,” He says, swaying slightly where he’s standing,

“What,” Wilbur says, louder than Phil did, eyes wide in surprise and a bit of horror,

“I can’t sleep, the Egg can get me than, it will say things, I don’t wanna work for it again, I didn’t like hurting people,” He says, voice slurred as he barely catches himself from tilting sideways, “I can’t do that again, can’t hurt them-” His voice fades off and he collapses, Phil narrowly managing to catch him,

The rest at the table stare at the collapsed figure, horrified. The Egg was dealt with by now, bloodvines torn up and disposed of, unable to come back and infect more people, and the infected no longer so, but they didn’t expect him to have interacted with it, he wasn’t there when it was around, which meant-

“Fuck,” Techno whispers, standing up quickly to help Phil bring the child back to his room, he saw the scars, he should’ve known, was too stupid to want to think of the implications, the kid could be fucking dying from lack of bloodvines and they could’ve not noticed if it wasn’t for a slip-up made in a sickened haze,

After they manage to get him back into bed and carefully under the sheets they go back to the kitchen, sitting at the table in silence,

“We need to get someone who actually dealt with the vines, we don’t know if this is just something due to bad resurrection or if it has to do with that fucking egg,” Wilbur says, speaking up first, always good at finding his voice in these situations,

“I already told the others we have someone else and to not visit unless its an emergency, so we could get someone here probably within the next few days most, Bad or Skeppy could help, both have some medical knowledge and firsthand experience, but it might be triggering,” Tommy says, “and we don’t know how well that the big man will deal with it, with how he reacted to us for the first time and all that,”

Phil nods in agreement along with Techno and Ranboo, “We should also get some holy water from Church Prime, I know that at least helped everyone else with dealing with the lack of infection, but we don’t know if it’s different since he’s died and respawned,”

“I could go in the mornin’ and we could stasis chamber me back,” Techno says, crossing his arms over his chest seriously, “Dependin’ on how long he had the vines before he died, it could’ve been the only reason he was still alive at all with how malnourished he was when he arrived, his body is dealing with all that sickness and pain now,”

Ranboo frowns, tail lashing unhappily at his ankles, “We should stop with the potions, if it’s not a sickness we might just make it worse by overusing them, but that also means that he will be feeling all the pain from it,”

“Fuck,” Tommy whispers, horror in his voice as he puts his head in one of his hands, “This is so fucked, he doesn’t deserve this,”

Wilbur puts a comforting hand on his shoulder from next to him, “No more leaving him alone, we’re gonna have someone watching him all the time incase he gets worse, I am not particularly thrilled to learn if the bloodvines can grow back in a person or not,”

They all nod in agreement, falling into tense silence before eventually separating to their rooms, Tommy joining the big man himself in his, sitting in the chair next to the bed quietly, staring at the poor kid.

He remembers the pain of starving in exile, it is agonizing, it is pain like no other, the closest he could compare it to is like being stabbed never-endingly in the stomach, no escape from the horrible torment until he eventually consumed something,

He swallows hard, fighting back tears. He never wanted, wants, anyone to go through something like exile, especially not someone who he cares for.

After a bit of sitting there, stewing in his thoughts, he pulls out his communicator with shaking hands, pulling up a familiar name and typing his message in.

_Tommyinnit whispered to Tubbo_ _: I think I need some help__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, plot has arrived. Don't worry nothing to bad will happen, this is a healing fic, and The Egg is dealt with, this is mostly to pull others into the plot :>


	9. Worried Friends and Unpleasent Reminders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is a bit slower/less exciting, i'm gonna be posting the next one soon!
> 
> Oh also dying in prison is also canon for Tommy in this fic but he came back, but if this doesn't align with how that arc goes in canon that's because I planned this all out before that happened.

Tubbo thinks that life has been going quite calmly for him for a while now, not that it’s a bad thing, in fact he enjoys it quite a lot, spending his days working on the ever-expanding Snowchester between visiting Tommy and Ranboo, it’s good, and a lot better not living in fear of his closest friend and husband dying.

He’s not particularly surprised (nor thrilled) when he hears of someone new in the SMP, Tommy doesn’t specify much, kid, injured, stay away for a bit so they can heal safely. Tubbo is the only one outside of the household trusted with the knowledge of the resurrection being the reason that the new person arrived.

Not being able to visit them hurts a little bit, to be unable to see his best friend and husband, but he gets it, so he works on Snowchester with Jack and Puffy and fills his days with mindless tasks that leave a pleasant ache in his bones,

Schlatt comes around, sometimes, they’re working on that, the execution still burns in more ways than just the phantom pains that he gets sometimes that leave him bedridden, Schlatt isn’t much of a worker but when he’s sober he’s much kinder than he was when drunk, and company is company, especially if he can guilt trip said company into giving him stuff.

All in all, he thinks he’s doing pretty good up until he gets a message from Tommy that makes his heart drop to his feet.

 _Tommyinnit whispered to Tubbo__ : I think I need some help

He tries to calm himself, Dream is still in prison, Sam would tell everyone immediately if he got out, no one else has done anything harmful in more than months, it’s okay.

 _Tubbo_ whispered to Tommyinnit_ : I’m coming, are you in the arctic?  
 _Tommyinnit whispered to Tubbo__ : Yeah, thank you.  
 _Tubbo_ whispered to Tommyinnit_ : Of course.

He gets ready immediately, messaging Puffy and Jack that he’ll be gone for a bit before getting a bag ready, shoving in all the essentials and setting off, not even caring about the setting sun.

He goes through the nether to hurry, the heat not even bothering him through his thick winter clothing with the panic seeping into his bones, he needs to see if Tommy is okay, he doesn’t know what he’ll do if Tommy isn’t.

He goes through the other nether portal, the cold air grounding him a little more than the boiling heat did, going through the tundra quickly, just passing the mobs instead of taking the time to fight them, he’s in a hurry.

He sighs in relief when the house comes into view, steam rising out of the chimney, there has been quite a few expansions since how it was when he came here for the butcher army, he doesn’t like those memories. He speedwalks to get there just a bit quicker.

Tommy opens the door before he can knock, all but throwing himself into Tubbo’s arms.

“Tubbo,” Tommy breathes, voice grateful, “I missed you big man,”

Tubbo hugs him back just as hard, “Missed you too,” He admits, “How is everything going?”

“Bad, he’s- he’s so fucking sick Tubbo, the one I resurrected, I brought him back and he’s just suffering and I feel so fucking bad,” Tommy says, guilt coating his voice, trembling slightly in Tubbo’s grip, 

Tubbo nods, “We’ll deal with it, it will be fine Tommy, let’s go in,” He says, reassuring as always, leading the two of them inside,

The rest of the house seems to be asleep (or atleast retired to their rooms), unnaturally quiet for any house with sleepy bois inc and friends.

Tommy wipes his face on his sleeves, stopping himself from breaking down and crying from the stress, “Come on, I’ll show you him, he’s asleep,” He says, leading Tubbo to his room.

The child is asleep in bed, a wet rag over his forehead and wheezing slightly with every breath, face flushed red and slightly sweaty with fever.

Honestly, he doesn’t look the worst Tubbo has seen, sick, yeah, clearly, but not enough to get Tommy THIS worried. What’s more worrying than the sickness is how small he is, form thin even under the blankets and face alarmingly pale, under his eyes bruised dark. It reminds him painfully of Tommy after exile, though he looks a bit younger than Tommy was then.

“What happened to him?” Tubbo asks softly, as to not awaken the sleeping child.

“We don’t know, fully,” Tommy admits, “He was alive a long, long time ago, he was a butler for some fucking asshole, wouldn’t let him sleep or eat, he had these terrible marks on his back and hands from ‘lashings’ with a fuckin’ whip,” Tommy says, voice tinged with anger, none towards the child, “He doesn’t even have a name, never given one, said it’s because people have names and he isn’t a person.”

“That’s terrible,” Tubbo says truthfully, looking over at the child in slowly growing horror, “What are you calling him?”

“Different things, Ranboo and Will are waiting for him to choose, I just call him big man, Phil calls him mate and Techno sometimes calls him kid,”

Tubbo nods slowly, “So, is this a resurrection thing or from what happened before he died?” He asks, “Or do we not know,”

Tommy doesn’t answer for a moment, staring down at his hands, “We think he came in contact with the Egg,”

Tubbo all but freezes in place, laughing nervously, “What? If he’s from so long ago that must mean that he’d never come into contact with it, right?”

“Unless it’s older than we thought,” Tommy responds, “He came out of his room all delirious a few hours ago during dinner, said he couldn’t go to sleep because the Egg would get him if he did, unless there is some other fucking threatening Egg, I think we know which one he’s talking about,”

“Fuck,” Tubbo says, simply, not much else to say, “Is he dealing with the infection? Like Bad and Skeppy had to?”

Tommy nods, “Worse, since he was in a bad state before we think it’s harder for him to fight off, we’ve been giving him potions too, since we didn’t know, and it might’ve worsened it. We’re gonna stop now but he’ll have to deal with the pain then,”

Tubbo winces, “That’s terrible,” He says, “Are you going to get help from the others? The ones who were infected by the Egg before might be able to help, and Sam is good with kids,”

“Maybe, we’re going to have to get someone, none of us dealt with it, not this close,” Tommy says, “I wish I could just fix it, or I don’t know, take the pain, he doesn’t deserve this, he’s a fucking child Tubbo, he’s younger than we were in the fucking wars!”

“And we were too young for that then too,” Tubbo argues, shaking his head, “All we can do now is help him, I can stay around to help out too,”

“I don’t know how he’ll deal with you, he’s struggling to recognize us sometimes and it’s getting worse, Techno especially, apparently looks like his old ‘master’ or whatever the fuck, made him have a panic attack the first time he saw him,” Tommy says, crossing his arms,

“Then we’ll deal with that, for now I’m here to support you, okay?” Tubbo asks, taking one of Tommy’s hands into his own,

Tommy nods, “Yeah, yeah, thank you,” He says, gratefulness hidden under sarcasm, “Clingy bitch,”

Tubbo laughs softly, “Now you should get to bed, I’ll watch him, don’t worry,”

Tommy looks like he is going to argue before yawning, blinking tiredly, “Fine, don’t fuckin’ kill him or something,” He says, leaving the room with dragging feet as Tubbo sits in the seat near the bed, watching the small child carefully like he’ll stop breathing if he stops looking.

Techno sets off the next morning to get Bad and Skeppy along with some prime holy water, making everyone promise to stay safe while he’s gone.

Ranboo is elated to see their husband here (even if Phil and Techno are both a bit iffy about introducing more people to the kid), picking up Tubbo and happily purring into his hair as Tubbo laughs at them, trying to squirm out of their grip.

Worryingly, the kid doesn’t wake up while Techno is gone, staying fast asleep, not even shifting around. They all keep themselves busy trading out watching him and changing the cloth on his forehead and trying to find something besides healing potions that will help with the pain when he awakens,

Techno uses the nether to get to the greater SMP area, not wanting to risk the time it’d take to go by land, even though he’d have to be careful with the bottles when he returned or the liquid might evaporate.

It is something he can deal with to make sure the kid is okay quicker, walking over the (gladly widened) bridges quickly and into the community nether portal.

He still doesn’t wander too far out here often, he prefers the quiet of the tundra with his family joining him sometimes, even though he would like to think he’s putting in the effort to make things up with people he’s wronged and vice versa (getting an apology from Quackity was funny until he had to apologize back.)

He stops at the prime church first, filling up as many bottles as he can with the holy water, it sings with the same power that unbrewed potion water does, what blaze powder infuses it with, but calmer, cooler.

After that he travels to Skeppy and Bad’s mansion, it is not the farthest, but enough to be annoying, enough to worry about if he’s taking too long and the kid will be dead when he gets back.

Bad and Skeppy are both waiting outside when he arrives, talking in slightly hushed voices. They stop as soon as Techno approaches, standing up quickly and grabbing their bags, just simple stuff for a day or so,

“What’s going on? Phil didn’t explain much,” Skeppy asks immediately, one of his hands holding onto Bad’s arm,

“Follow me, we can talk and walk and I’d rather we get back sooner rather than later,” Techno states, turning back around and hearing the sound of footsteps walking quickly to catch up with him, “New person on the SMP, Tommy decided to mess with necromancy and brought them back with Dream’s book, kept getting sicker which we thought was just botched resurrection until they told us about an ‘Egg’,”

Both make a sharp intake of breath at the mention of the Egg, understandably, neither have the best memories of it.

“Is he possessed?” Bad asks, worry clear in his voice at the idea that the Egg might be back,

“No, the thing is still destroyed, he’s just dealing with the infection, we didn’t know so we’ve been givin’ him potions and other things that might’ve made it worse,” Techno says, “None of us dealt with it so we don’t really know how to help it properly, so we thought it’d be better to get someone who actually knows what they’re doin’”

Bad nods, “We get it, the infection was hard enough to deal with when we knew what we were doing, and none of us used potions, so this is probably worse, especially if he’s also dealing with post-res sickness.”

Skeppy nods in agreement with him as they all lapse into silence, hurrying back to the house in the tundra.

The next time that he wakes up Tommy is there, everything hurts, a constant ache all over his body that he’s long since gotten used to, but never feels good. He hasn’t felt it in a bit, actually, the healing potions he’s been given numbing it down, they’ll probably give him another before it gets too bad.

He shifts to get up and Tommy notices him being awake, pressing softly on his shoulders to keep him from sitting up,

“Hey big man, just stay laying down, alright? You need to rest to get better.” Tommy says softly, brushing his hair out of his face,

He whines softly in response, unable to form actual words, his throat feels so incredibly dry,

Tommy seems to notice his distress and grabs a glass bottle from the bedside, pressing it against his lips softly, not tilting it too far so he won’t choke, “This will help you, okay? Like the healing potions,”

He drinks the water gratefully, it tastes a bit different than the other water did, purer in a way? Not cleaner, the other water was clean, it’s weird to explain.

After he finishes the bottle Tommy pulls it away, setting the now empty bottle to the side.

“There are some people here to help you, okay big man? Would you like to meet them?” Tommy asks softly, running a hand comfortingly through his hair and he resists the urge to lean into the contact,

The answer truly is ‘no’, he really doesn’t, but instead he nods and tries to sit up again, quickly getting pressed gently back down by Tommy,

“Just stay laying down big man, alright? I’ll get them,” Tommy assures, leaving the room,

He holds back a whimper because he really, really doesn’t want to be alone, he never liked being alone while sick, the fear of something bad happening to him while he was in a fragile state making him want others to be there. Whenever he was sick Hubert would basically hover at his bedside, which was nice, he misses Hubert.

He wishes he remembered more of the afterlife, was Hubert there? Did they talk? Was Hubert angry at him for what he did? Was he proud of him?

He hopes Hubert is proud.

He is pulled out of his thoughts by the door opening again, showing a shorter brunette in a green shirt, shorter than any of the others he met.

“Hello!” He says, he has a similar accent to some of the other ones, “I’m Tubbo, I’m Tommy’s friend,”

“Hello,” He answers, softly, voice still a bit hoarse,

Tubbo frowns slightly at his lack of much answer, but puts the smile back on his face quickly, “I’m here to help them take care of you, okay?”

He nods but doesn’t respond further, not looking at Tubbo,

Tubbo sighs, “Okay, I’m gonna go now, bye!” He says, leaving the room, looking at Tommy standing outside the door with his arms crossed,

“I don’t think he likes me,” Tubbo whispers, frowning

“He’ll get used to you, don’t worry big man,” Tommy assures, clapping him on the shoulder before walking past him to go back into the room,

“Do you mind meeting the other two? They know what sickness you have and can help with it, but they might need to look at you a bit,” Tommy asks, keeping his voice gentle,

He nods after a few seconds, really dreading meeting new people, didn’t Tommy promise before that he wouldn’t have to? But he would probably chop off his hand at this point to get rid of the pain he feels all over.

Tommy leads two more in, they’re a bit older than Tommy or Tubbo, one with blue almost gem-looking things growing from his skin and the other almost looks like a shadow under his red cloak, little horns poking out of his head,

“Hello, I’m Skeppy and this is Bad,” The one with the gems greets, walking over with careful steps, “We’ve dealt with what you’re going through right now, so we’re here to help, okay?”

He nods weakly, resisting the urge to lean away from the two when they come closer, Tommy stands near the door, a calming presence.

“Can we look at your arms real quick? We just want to check something,” Bad asks, not reaching out until he agrees,

He nods again, sitting up and setting his arms out in front of him but not moving further than that, feeling like he’ll pass out if he does,

Bad kneels next to the bed carefully and takes one of his arms, shockingly gentle as he rolls down the sleeve over his elbows,

Both wince when they see the scars on his hands from broken plates and lashings, but ignore it, instead focusing on the winding, almost electricity-like ones left behind by the vines,

The scars aren’t red which is good, instead a pale white that barely is visible compared to the rest of the pale skin on the young boy, 

Bad presses down softly on one of the vine scars, feeling for anything under the skin that shouldn’t be there, the kid whimpers softly in pain but it is just normal skin with nothing under besides veins,

“Can we take off your shirt to check your back real quick?” Skeppy asks and he nods again, letting them unbutton the button up and slide it down,

The scars on his back are worse than his arms by a lot, both vines and lashings, some of the wounds still open but thin enough they don’t need to be bandaged anymore, clearly healed by the potions,

There are still no actual vines thankfully, as both think if they had to actually pull any out of the kid they’d vomit, and they help him button his shirt back up after,

“Good news, you don’t have any blood vines in you, which means that this healing will be a lot easier, bad news, you’re gonna feel shitty for a bit,” Skeppy says, brutally honest but keeping his voice kind and less loud to not scare the kid,

“Language,” Bad hisses, before continuing, “We can’t use healing potions anymore because it might worsen the infection, but we have something else that will help, okay?”

He nods, though his eyes are bleary in a way that both doubt he’s processing anything they said, besides the minute flinch when Skeppy says ‘blood vines’ (which they both get, neither can hear the word ‘Egg’ anymore without bad connotations).

“I think we should let the big man go to sleep, he needs rest,” Tommy says, speaking up, and both nod, saying goodbyes to the kid and shutting the door, Tommy resuming his spot watching him.

The others are sat in the dining room, chatting quietly but not actually saying anything, waiting for both of them to come out,

Phil looks up at them as they enter the room, smiling at them both but worry clear on his face, “So, will he be okay,”

“He has no bloodlines remaining, at least none that we can find, but he’s very sick, he should heal with time and the holy water but with the resurrection we can’t tell what effects this could have on him physically, possibly being stuck in half health permanently,” Skeppy states, crossing his arms seriously, “He should be bedbound, no getting up as it could cause the healing to slow, keep him fed and hydrated, normal sickness things, if he shows any signs of worsening further message us immediately,”

Phil nods, “Thank you for helping, none of us really know how to deal with the Egg stuff,”

“Don’t mention it, he’s a kid, doesn’t deserve to be going through that,” Bad says, frowning, “But it’s gonna hurt, since you can’t use potions and he is healing, you should probably keep some cold compresses around or something to try to help numb it,”

Phil nods again, “Thanks again for coming, do you plan to stay or-?”

“No, we’d rather return home, we can deal with the mobs, but thank you,” Skeppy says quickly, not particularly rudely, but clearly not wanting to stick around, they all get it,

They say goodbyes and Skeppy and Bad leave, they lean on each other slightly for comfort as they travel through the nether.

Interacting with anything associated with the Egg ever again was not something either particularly wished for, but they’d rather a kid not die than them have a few bad days, so instead they go home and curl up on the couch together and ignore things for a bit, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Platonic skephalo and plankton bros pog, love these block men.


	10. Memories best remembered under the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After dreams of events he has long forgotten, Moon goes outside looking for something.

He is a very small child when Hubert and Billiam find him.

It is not Hubert and Billiam’s first bank robbery, nor will it be their last, taking money from towns full of deadbeat, evil people and using it for themselves. All it really took was seeing ‘crops’, who seemed to be a literal cannibal, for them to choose this town for the next one.

Honestly, it is too easy, they are basically let into the bank with open doors after saying that Billiam is an ‘investor’, the banker doesn’t even watch them, it’s almost funny.

They take the money and run, laughing to themselves when they hear Percy’s yells for the sheriff.

It is only when they round a corner and Hubert knocks a child to the floor that they stop.

The kid goes tumbling to the floor easily, skinning one of his cheeks against the harsh ground, though shockingly he does not start crying, just staring up at them with wide eyes and pulling the ratty blanket draped around his shoulders closer around himself.

Hubert goes completely still in place, very slowly kneeling down,

“Hey, I'm sorry that I hurt you on accident, where are your parents?” He asks, keeping his voice soft and low,

“I don’t got any of dose,” The kid mumbles, voice slurred and slightly hoarse, before coughing harshly after,

“Oh, i’m sorry,” Hubert says, frowning under his porcelain mask, “Do you have a name, little one?”

The child shakes his head and Hubert winces,

“Hubert I think we need to go,” Billiam hisses, listening to the quickly approaching noises of what is probably the sheriff,

“We can’t just leave them!” Hubert hisses back, “Can we atleast drop them off at a better village without, I don’t know, cannibals?”

“Fine but we need to go!” Billiam says, loading the crossbow in his inventory,

“Would you like to come with us?” Hubert asks, managing to keep his voice kind even though the yells approach.

The kid nods slowly and Hubert wastes no time pulling the kid up into his arms, tucking him safely into his chest so that if a bullet or arrow fires it won’t hit them.

“THERE HE IS!” Someone yells, probably the banker by the voice and Hubert curses, running immediately while Billiam follows quickly behind, firing a shot back at them.

“Where go?” The kid asks, only sounding a bit panicked as he holds onto Hubert,

“What?” Hubert asks, dodging an arrow that would’ve connected with his head,

“Where go!” The kid asks with more feeling,

“Our- Our horses?” Hubert says and the kid nods, holding onto him harder and reaching out to grab Billiam.

They feel the distinct feeling of teleportation, from the few times they’ve used enderpearls, though this feels smoother, and hurts a lot less.

“What?” Hubert whispers, looking around to find them across town, in front of their horses.

The kid slumps against him tiredly and they don’t take time questioning it, jumping onto their horses and riding off before anyone can catch up with them.

Hubert sighs in relief, looking down at the kid who seems strangely calm about the situation, sort of just staring off vaguely into the distance, eyes half-closed with sleepiness.

“Hey, are you okay? No arrows hit you right?” He asks softly, repositioning the child so he is sitting more comfortably on the horse instead of vaguely held in his arms.

“No, is okay,” The kid says, “Tired,”

“That’s okay buddy, you can sleep,” Hubert says, “When you wake up we’ll be far away from here, okay?”

The kid nods, leaning into Hubert’s chest and pretty quickly dozing off.

Hubert looks over to Billiam, finding the man watching him with a pinched expression,

“What?” Hubert asks, quieter than usual to not wake up the sleeping child,

“You just kidnapped an orphan Hubert,” Billiam states, voice a normal monotone, “What are we even going to do with them,”

“We’ll- We’ll drop them off at a better town with an orphanage, he’s a good kid, he’ll get adopted,” Hubert states, though the thought hurts him, the kid helped them escape, he’s allowed to feel bad about leaving him,

“We both know that’s never gonna happen,” Billiam says honestly, “So, what’s the actual plan,”

Hubert sighs, pulling the sleeping child just a bit closer, protectively, “We can take him back to the mansion, I could teach him to be a butler to keep up your image, and if he wants to leave we’ll bring him somewhere safe and let him,”

Billiam nods, before huffing softly, “I don’t even know why you chose to be ‘head butler’, we really could’ve just been two rich people,”

“Because you’re useless at basic tasks and I need to keep my hands busy,” Hubert bites back, no real malice behind the words, “Anyways I couldn’t stand having to act so posh, fuckin’ annoying.”

“Not as hard as it looks, it’s more funny than anything,” Billiam says with a shrug, “They’ll just go with your every word, I got someone to agree that poor people didn’t have names a bit ago,”

Hubert snorts, running one hand through the small orphan’s hair.

The child wakes up hours later in a sleeping bag of some sorts, it is night, the stars shining brightly in the sky.

He sits up slowly, wincing slightly as it alights hunger pains, but deals with it.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Someone says and he looks over quickly, seeing the man with the porcelain mask from the village, the mask is moved to the side, showing his face.

He nods, staring nervously at the man, fidgeting uncomfortably with the blanket under them.

“I’m Hubert,” The man says, smiling, “Are you hungry?”

He nods but doesn’t move, not wanting the man to get angry.

Hubert grabs a bowl from beside him, moving to the campfire and ladling something into it, before handing it over gently with a spoon.

It is a stew of some kind, the scent warm and comforting.

He stares at the man suspiciously as he sips the stew, the man simply watching with a weird, kind look.

He travels with Hubert and Billiam for a bit after that. He doesn’t really trust Billiam, but Hubert is kind and trusts Billiam, so he does too.

It is mostly days of them riding on horseback to wherever they are going, the scenery slowly becoming greener and then transferring into thickening forests.

The sounds of monsters at night scare them, remembering times they’d spend nights hiding from them, scared of the idea of being dragged out and ripped apart.

Hubert will set him in his lap and hum when they’re unable to sleep from the sounds, keeping the monsters far away from him with light and shiny weapons.

The first time Billiam is watching and he is unable to sleep he is terrified, he doesn’t want Billiam to get mad at him and he looks frighteningly similar to Mr.Sherman Thompson.

Billiam notices him shifting around and shaking after a bit, sitting next to him and taking out a book, reading to him as he stares with wide eyes, slowly settling into Billiam’s voice and drifting off.

Billiam does it again every time he struggles to sleep, and it becomes something he looks forward to.

It is a cool morning when Hubert softly lifts him off of his sleeping bag like he usually does, him and Billiam packing the camp up quickly to continue riding.

He holds onto Hubert as they climb onto the horse, settling slightly against him and trying to slowly wake up.

They are in dense spruce woods at this point, the trees pointy in a way that interests him, he barely saw trees in the desert, nevermind ones like these.

He stares in shock as a mansion comes into view, it is absolutely gigantic, with large windows overlooking the inside.

“Do you live there?” He asks in amazement, 

“Yes, and you do too now,” Hubert answers, he can hear the smile in his voice as he ruffles their hair affectionately.

Hubert and Billiam put away the horses as he stares up, amazed at the large building.

Hubert picks them up softly to bring them in, the first room is large with a staircase leading up to the second floor.

“Is so big,” He whispers, excitement lacing his tone,

“It is very big,” Hubert replies, “Would you like me to give you a tour?”

He nods quickly, holding on to Hubert tightly as he leads him down big hallways, large kitchens and a library and many rooms. People in fancy clothes cleaning pass them and look confused at the child, but none say anything mean.

He gets sick very quickly after that, a mix of the travelling and all of the prior stress catching up to him, leaving Billiam and Hubert to care for him.

A lot of it is spent in a daze, at some point he’s pretty sure he cries when he sees Billiam because he thinks it’s the sheriff and Hubert has to come in to comfort him, he feels guilty at how sad Billiam looked after.

Hubert comes in one night and picks him up, walking him onto the balcony like he does some nights to let him get fresh air, just pacing softly while humming to him. He feels bad whenever he coughs into Hubert’s shoulder but Hubert doesn’t mind.

“Hm,” Hubert says after a bit, “We never named you, did we?”

“No,” He replies hoarsely, coughing weakly after,

“How about,,,” Hubert says, trailing off and looking up, “Moon,”

“Moon?” He asks, “Like the thing in the sky?”

“Yes, exactly like that,” Hubert affirms, “Do you like it?”

He thinks for a moment before nodding slowly, “Like it, moon,” He repeats softly, leaning against Hubert’s chest tiredly,

“Great,” Hubert responds, smiling down at them fondly, “Moon it is,”

He wakes up with a gasp from the dreams (from the memories), sitting up in his bed, Tommy is asleep in the chair next to him, gladly not awoken by him.

He very carefully gets out of bed and grabs the shawl-like coat from the dresser, sneaking out of his room with careful but quick footsteps, shoving on his boots and walking out the front door,

There is a soft flurry of snow as they step out, staring up into the night sky, desperately looking for- for something.

He looks at the stars and the clouds but that’s not what he’s looking for, what is he looking for?

He hears quick footsteps follow the path he took outside, much more panicked than his were just as he sees it.

“Big man, what are you doing out there, you’re gonna get sicker!” Tommy says, shoving on his own boots before stomping out, going to tug him back inside,

“Moon,” He whispers back, staring with wide amazed eyes at the silver crescent in the sky,

“What?” Tommy asks, clearly confused,

“My name is Moon,” He says, voice still barely a whisper even though his lips rise into a smile, blinking away happy tears from his eyes, his name was a gift from a friend, it feels so good to find it again,

Tommy pauses, looking up at the same crescent that Moon was looking at, “Okay, big M, let’s get you inside still, okay?”

Moon nods in agreement, following Tommy back inside, fingers cold from the frigid night air but he can’t even feel it under the giddy excitement of his name being back.

People have names, and he has his name again, so is he a person?

He hopes he is.  



	11. Lack of Moral Backbone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon has nightmares of his time with Billiam and Hubert

After the sickness eventually clears, Hubert starts to teach them some basic skills, he specifies that Moon doesn’t need to take up the butler persona, like he does, but that they’re just good skills to have, and Moon loves to learn.

A lot of stuff he’s not allowed to do yet, most of the kitchen, anything including heat or sharp objects, isn’t allowed. Hubert doesn’t like him dusting high places either, scared he’ll fall.

When not spent learning to clean or cook or other random tasks, he wanders the house, he finds many interesting spots opened by hidden levers or buttons. He goes to the library sometimes, but he can’t read any of the books, so he doesn’t stay there for long.

He is in there one day, staring at a book’s title like it will somehow randomly start making sense, when Billiam walks in.

“Oh, hello,” He says, walking over and crouching next to the child, “What are you doing?”

“Wanna read,” Moon says, frowning, “Can’t,”

“You can read the book if you want,” Billiam says, “I don’t mind,”

“No, can’t,” Moon insists,

Billiam blinks, “Can you not, read?” He asks, not really getting what Moon is saying,

Moon nods, “Can’t,” He says, “Wanna,”

“I could teach you?” Billiam offers, “Than you could read all you want without me,”

Moon’s eyes widen with excitement and he nods, shoving out the book towards Billiam,

Billiam chuckles, “This ones a bit complicated for learning, I’ll read it to you tonight instead, okay?”

Moon frowns but nods, putting the book back in place, “What read?”

Billiam looks around the shelves, finding one of the shorter childrens books tucked away were it is hidden from sight, “How about this, we’ll start with the alphabet, okay?”

“Albaphet?”

“Alphabet, Al-fa-bet”

“Alphavet”

“You’ll get it” Billiam says, chuckling, “Here, come sit down with me and we’ll work on it,”

Moon nods, jumping up into Billiam’s lap once he sits down, “Learn,”

“Yes, learn,”

Moon learns to sword fight from Billiam years later, to cook from Hubert, potions from both. He starts going under the title ‘butler’ and is the second beside Hubert, he takes the job seriously (no matter how much Billiam and Hubert think it’s kinda funny he takes a fake job so seriously, they even start to give him an allowance for it).

He thinks part of it is probably natural neatness, and his constant fear that if he’s not good enough Hubert and Billiam will throw him out no matter how much they reassure him otherwise. He likes keeping his hands busy most of all.

When not spent working he reads in the library, he has most of the books memorized by now and could read them by remembering the pages off the top of his head, he does sometimes, a strange skill to have but it impresses some rich guest that Billiam has over to trick money out of, so it’s helpful in that way he guesses.

He only knows something is wrong after the years when one day he hears Billiam yell at one of the other staff.

Billiam is not one to yell in rage, even when Billiam has been at his angriest (usually protecting him or Hubert) it has been quiet and calm and full of care for them.

He runs downstairs, almost worried they’re getting stolen from or someone is being threatened, to find a new staff girl with tears in her eyes trying to pick up a shattered plate while Billiam yells.

He doesn’t intervene, a bit too shocked, too scared.

Billiam apologizes to her later, ‘just a bad day’, he tries to forget the incident, to think of it as just a bad day.

But it happens again, and again, and again, until punishments are just a normal thing. He hears Hubert and Billiam argue about it, but can’t step in.

They get in a big argument one night and Moon locks himself away in a hidden space behind the bookshelves, only coming out when Hubert comes to find them and apologizes. When he comes out Billiam apologizes too, it’d be easier to believe if the same scenario didn’t repeat more.

Hubert leaves more, to get away from whatever Billiam is becoming, and Moon can’t blame him, even though the threats of punishment usually only used sparingly when entertaining some rich guest become more common, less friendly, Moon deals with it.

The first night that food is actually withheld from him, he is surprised but doesn’t argue, simply doing what he does when they argue and going into one of the hidden spaces that feel safe, Billiam was never interested enough to remember them, only Hubert and other staff that find them would know were he is.

It happens more slowly, and then comes sleep deprivation. Billiam doesn’t actually particularly enforce it, just tells him not to and he is too scared of the consequences to go against it, just staying awake, trying desperately to read a book and as an escape after finishing his work.

He has stayed up nights before, it isn’t too bad, the lack of control is the bad part, makes him uncomfortable and feel trapped and cornered.

He doesn’t remember what he did to first deserve lashings, just Billiam’s harsh grip as he drags him by the arm up to a room and instructs him to shed his shirt.

He trembles as he does so, waiting for the “I’m joking” or the “Nevermind” that never comes.

He kneels with shaking knees and takes his lashings, only a few split open and not deep, just bubbling up thin little streaks of blood.

Billiam leaves afterwards and they sit still on the floor, too shocked to move.

Hubert comes home after a few hours, finding him on the floor there. His voice is gentle and soft as he soothes the lashings, cooing in a soft voice how sorry he is that this happened as he bandages them, carrying Moon to his room and setting him down softly, instructing him that he isn’t working for the next few weeks.

He can hear Hubert and Billiam’s yells through the walls and can’t escape them, no cranny to hide in his small room to block it out, so instead he covers his ears and cries until he passes out.

Staff start to disappear after that, ‘running away’, Moon chooses to believe it while Hubert does not, but he is too focused on trying to save Moon from the brunt of the abuse to do anything about it.

Moon hides a lot of the punishments, the lack of sleep or food. It is next to impossible to hide lashings, so he doesn’t try.

It is just one day when they find a painting not straight, pushed to the side almost purposefully,

He doesn’t know what possesses him to tilt the painting further and look inside (actually he does, very well, too well,). Just that he looks into one of the few secret rooms he hasn’t found before.

He takes a careful step in, moving the painting back in place behind him. Red vines stretch along the floor and he holds back a gag in disgust, is this mold or something?

He avoids the vines, stepping over them carefully, surveying the strange amount of greenery and the cells on the walls, what the hell is this place?

He looks up and freezes completely in place on instinct, staring at a large red,,, egg? It is taller than him by quite a bit, the vines sprouting off of it.

“Oh, you found it!” Billiam says, clapping a hand on his shoulder, he’d flinch if he could move.

His hands tremble but are unable to so much as twitch, and he feels vines cross over his feet, “Words?” He asks, voice squeaky,

“Three of course,” Billiam replies, voice sounding much too kind for how he’s been recently,

Moon swallows, staring up at the egg with big eyes, “What is it?”

“It’s The Egg,” Billiam says like it explains anything, “It will grant someone whatever they desire, for the simple price of being fed”

He isn’t particularly shocked by violence or death, mostly from a childhood full of living in a town of with a cannibal and people getting shot on the daily, however hearing those words makes blood drain from his face,

“Can you hear it Moon?” Billiam asks, “Can you hear The Egg?”

He wants to say no but instead he _listens_ , and he hears.

**Hello, Moon**

He flinches back but is unable to move any further, blocked by Billiam and being practically frozen in fear, whimpering slightly under his breath, a staticky, enderman-like noise that he hasn’t made in a while, not since Billiam started getting mad when he did.

**Don’t be scared, I can give you what your heart desires.  
I could bring your family back, Billiam and Hubert and you, a happy family. **

He shakes his head, trembling all over, no, no, whatever this thing was couldn’t do that, it probably is the reason Billiam is like this now, no, it’s lying.

Billiam hums, a low, annoyed noise that makes them flinch, “Well, I guess you’ll hear it better if you spend some, quality time, with the Egg,”

“What-?” He asks before Billiam grabs his arm in a bruising grip, walking him in quick steps to one of the cells and opening them,

“Wait, Billiam, no, please, I’ll be good, please don’t put me in there,” He begs, but Billiam does not stop as he opens a cell and all but throws him inside, him falling to the ground painfully.

“Hubert thinks you’re on a trip, he won’t come and save you,” Billiam states, his smile just a bit too menacing and his eyes just a bit too red, “Have fun,”

He scoots himself back to the far wall of the cell, trembling as he stares at the thin blood vines stretching across it, “Please don’t do this,”

Billiam leaves, moving the painting back into place behind him and the lights shutting off, bathing Moon in darkness.

He curls up and trembles, he can feel them, the vines, on his skin, it hurts combined with the hunger pains that stab into his stomach every few seconds, it hurts and it won’t stop.

He does not know when he starts crying or when he stops. His stomach pangs painfully with hunger from a few days without food and he is so, so hungry.

He cannot sleep with the endless feeling of the vines moving under and around him, too paranoid, it feels like if he stops being aware of them for a second they’ll climb down his throat and live inside him.

Tracking time is impossible, he tries to count but it just dissolves into meaningless numbers that don’t fit together instantly.

He starts biting the insides of his cheeks, just to mimic chewing, to dissolve some of the inescapable pain, and doesn’t stop until he bites down and blood flows into his mouth, filling it with the taste of iron.

Under his fingernails is wet with something, is it blood? He can’t see, everything is just so red.

He is shocked when he hears the sound of the door to his cell opening, not even realizing that the lights have been turned on until he looks up and sees Billiam.

“Do you embrace the Egg?” Billiam asks, eyes a deep red that should scare him,

He nods, he can’t go through any more of this, he’ll die. He’ll do anything to escape the hell of this small cell with the vines and the taste of blood.

Billiam walks over and picks him up, the action so nostalgic and he can’t stand to be worried, just embracing the comfort.

Billiam takes care of him and feeds him like he used to when he was younger, though he can’t eat much, everything is ash and iron.

Billiam carries him to his room after, laying him in bed softly,

“I’m sorry I had to do that to you, but you needed to accept the Egg.” Billiam cooes, running a hand through his hair, “We can be a family now,”

He falls asleep, letting himself experience a comfort that he hasn’t in a while.

Moon improves significantly after they realize what is actually wrong, even though he doesn’t particularly enjoy any part of it, now that he isn’t delirious with sickness the pain of actually healing is very apparent, leaving him bedridden and unable to stomach anything most days,

The nightmares also happen more, now having enough energy in his brain to even have them, leaving him waking up in the middle of the night struggling to breath, he tries to not bother the others with it.

The others support him as best as they can, Tubbo is a lot nicer than he thought he’d be, coming in and rubbing his back and telling him stories of the people on this server, some of them Moon doesn’t particularly believe, but it is better than being forced to focus on his body finally processing being starving for literal months.

Techno comes in when he can to read books. They've gotten through most of Techno’s greek mythology books by now, but Moon doesn’t mind rereading some of them. They look for a story that fits with him, apparently Techno did it with the others.

Tommy the myth of Theseus, a hero exiled and forgotten (though his tale did not end so sadly this time).

Wilbur the myth of Orpheus, a wonderful musician and one who could inspire countries but couldn’t handle the temptation of looking back (curiosity killed the cat and satisfaction brought it back, because Wilbur is here and sometimes more alive than even the others).

Phil the god Zephyrus, the god of the gentlest of winds and the messenger of spring, when Moon finally sees Phil's large, sprawling wings, one weaker from damage, he thinks they're almost angelic, befitting of a god. 

Ranboo is the myth of Cassandra, he learns eventually, blessed with the gift of prophecy but cursed to never be believed after rejecting Apollo’s advances, causing her to have to watch her city burn down while no one listens to her warnings. When he hears the story of L’manberg from Tubbo he thinks it fits.

Some part of him thinks that in every tale he fits in, but not as the hero or the villain or a tragic death, but in the background as every mentioned servant who hands over poison or opens the gates or a townsperson dead in a tragedy they never knew of. He never speaks this thought, he thinks that Techno may not like it.

Ranboo doesn’t watch him as much, seeming nervous about it, but they’re nice and will tell them stories of what is going on that he can’t interact with, about the people, they doesn’t talk as much about history, they say they don’t remember much of it, but they will tell him of the feelings they felt, the fear or terror or pure joy, and that works for him.

Phil is almost fatherly, something he never had and he is not used to, but he accepts the care and worry, it is reminiscent of Hubert, of Billiam before the Egg that he has now heard stories of and never enjoys, and sometimes he wishes to be back then, but always pushes those thoughts away, no use feeling guilty now.

His healing goes surprisingly quickly, or maybe they are just in pain for enough of it that it feels like it goes by quicker, spending much of it sleeping to avoid the pain.

He denies the cold compresses that are offered, the cold brings back bad memories of an inescapable cell where he is forced to listen to pretty lies from red vines that dig into skin.

He heals enough that he is allowed to walk around the house again, which feels good, freedom has never particularly been something he craved, the safety of small places and lock doors and not leaving the house was much preferred, but being trapped in bed is something someone can only deal with for so long,

He is reading next to the fire place, desperately ignoring pained stabbings in his stomach that he knows are phantom and still hurt so, so bad, when Tommy and Tubbo all but dash in,

“Big M! Wanna come to the greater smp with us?” Tommy asks excitedly, bouncing on his feet,

“Why?” He asks, “Aren’t I not supposed to leave?”

“C’mon, Phil and Techno are busy, they don’t have to know and Ranboo won’t tell!” Tommy assures, “You can meet more people and won’t have to be cooped up in the house!”

Moon frowns, trying to gather the ability to say ‘no’ before sighing, hoping he doesn't get into too much trouble for this, “Fine,”

Both throw their hands up, yelling happily, before all but dragging Moon out of his seat,

“Let’s go!”


	12. Anxious Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon meets a few other server members.

Escaping the house is shockingly easy, Moon put on some of his thicker winter clothing so that the tundra they all live in doesn’t make him sicker, stepping out with the others,

“Phil and Techno are gonna be out for a while, so we don’t have to come back immediately!” Tubbo says, smiling brightly at him,

He nods, shifting the bag that Tubbo and Tommy gave him on his shoulder, watching in surprise as an obsidian portal comes into sight, purple swirling inside of the ring,

He stares up at the portal in awe, he knew they existed, of course, a dimension of heat and violence and blood, but he has never seen a portal there so closely, only in books detailing dangerous travels,

“Uh, Moon, big M?” Tommy asks, snapping repeatedly to get his attention,

“Oh, sorry,” He apologizes, blinking back to reality,

“Are you okay? Do you want to go back?” Tubbo asks worriedly, concern clear on his face,

“No, it’s fine, I just,,,,” He stares at the swirling colors of the portal again, it has a slight glow to it that casts along the three,

“Oh, have you never gone to the nether before?” Tommy asks, apparently noticing his apprehension,

He nods, shuffling his feet slightly in the snow and looking down at his wringing hands instead of the portal,

“That’s okay big man, we fortified the path so nothing will get to you, and we’ll be there to protect you the entire time, alright? It is just a quick trip,” Tubbo assures, “We’d go by the overworld but it’d take a long time,”

He nods in understanding, taking a shaky breath, “Can one of you go first?” He asks softly, 

“Course big M! I’ll go right through and be there when you do, okay?” Tommy says, walking up to the portal and placing a hand on the frame, walking through the purple swirls and disappearing,

“You wanna go next big man?” Tubbo asks, placing a hand on his arm softly,

He nods, walking up with shaky footsteps to the portal, reaching out a hand and slowly placing it through, it is similar to the feeling of being underwater and reaching out into the air but in reverse, around his gloved hand is heat and he slowly walks through,

It is hot and dry, making him sweat under his winter clothes as he shifts uncomfortably, a tiny bit dizzy but otherwise no worse for wear,

“You did it big man!” Tommy states happily, gesturing around to the little box they’re in, a path leading away,

“This is shockingly normal,” He admits, Tubbo walking through the portal behind him, 

“I expected you to be dizzier, the first time I walked through a portal I hurled,” Tubbo admits, chuckling at the memory,

Tubbo and Tommy lead him through the pathways of the nether, not actually that far, probably a shorter distance than it was to get to the portal in the first place, though the heat and the red sprawling landscapes he can see sometimes are uncomfortable and he is none too happy to be leaving,

He walks through the portal to the overworld quickly, gasping in relief when he gets a breath of air that isn’t so dry and dusty, coughing hard,

Tubbo and Tommy walk through behind him, Tubbo placing a hand softly on his back when he sees him coughing, rubbing soothing circles into it,

“That’s it, just cough it all out,” Tubbo says softly, patting his back,

“I’m okay, i’m okay,” He chokes out, coughing a few more times into his arm before standing up straight again, breath slightly wheezing,

Tubbo nods slowly, “Just tell us if you need to go back, okay?” He says, receiving a small nod in response,

“Let’s go, we have people to meet and chaos to bring!” Tommy says, pulling the two down the stairs from the portal and down a wooden path.

The path stretches over water leading to a brick and wood structure, greenery hanging off of little gardens on the windows,

He can vaguely hear voices talking inside the building, enderman hearing and years of being a butler in such a quiet mansion making his hearing much more sensitive, the other two probably couldn’t hear it,

“This is the community house, we usually have meeting here and stuff, even though they’re not common,” Tubbo explains, gesturing at the building, it is pretty large, not as large as the mansion he grew up in, but still enough to probably fit quite a few people,

He nods, the voices inside becoming louder as the three approach the door,

Tommy flings it open, “Sam! Sammy! Big man!” He yells happily, running up to a tall creeper hybrid, face slightly covered in green scales were it is visible, most covered by a gas maks,

Moon walks in timidly behind Tubbo, grabbing one of his hands instinctively, Tubbo reassuringly squeezing it,

There is also a woman there with long fluffy hair and horns, arms crossed and an amused look on her face, though she looks over at him and he freezes in place,

“Oh, you must be who Tommy and Tubbo wanted to introduce us to! I’m captain Puffy,” She says, her voice is kind but he still suppresses the urge to flinch away and run as she approaches, holding out a hand to shake,

He timidly takes the hand, hoping she can’t feel the fact that he’s trembling, “Um, Moon,” He introduces softly, holding back the urge to ask for how many words he’s allowed to say, not looking up at her,

Tommy drags the other man over, “This is Sam! He does redstone n’ shit, he made my hotel too!”

Moon nods, he remembers Tommy talking about the hotel before, “Hello,”

“You’re new, right? Where did you come from?” Puffy prompts, he’s pretty sure if he looked up she’d be smiling, but he still keeps his gaze firmly on his boots,

“I was dead,” He says, not explaining any further, his free hand moving to fiddle with the bottom of the blue shawl he has on, it helps fight off the cold that never seems to leave his skin no matter how hot it is,

“Oh,” Both respond, and Moon winces at their tone, similar to when he mentioned something that was apparently abnormal to Hubert or Billiam and they got all sad, he shuffles his feet slightly,

“Well, it’s good you’re alive now!” Puffy says, breaking the slightly awkward silence, “We’ll see you around, okay?”

He nods, watching as their feet disappear from his field of view with the sound of a door opening and closing, them leaving the community house,

“That was awkward,” Tubbo states, sighing softly in relief it was over,

“Yeah, I was hoping they wouldn’t question how he got here so quick,” Tommy says, and he frowns, was he not supposed to mention his resurrection?

He wraps his arms around himself nervously, still not looking up from his boots, he has finally met other people and he already messed it up, what if others were dangerous? Would they try to hurt him? Would Tubbo and Tommy protect him? Maybe they just got sick of him being unhelpful and they’d leave him, or give him away to work for someone else like Billiam sometimes threatened to do,

“Moon, hey Moon,” Tommy says from somewhere next to him, placing a soft hand on his shoulder, “Are you there?”

He nods wordlessly, not trusting his voice,

“Okay, you’re okay, alright? Nothing bad is gonna happen, me and Tubbo are here, if you want to leave just tug on our sleeve or something and we’ll take you out of the situation as soon as we can, okay?” Tommy says, squeezing his shoulder softly,

He nods again, taking a shaky breath to ground himself before finally pulling his gaze up,

Tubbo and Tommy lead him out of the community house, there is a large stone castle a bit away from it, beacons of light stretching from it into the sky,

“That’s Eret’s castle! You can’t grief it, it’s homophobic,” Tommy explains, and Moon nods like he understands half of those words,

“It’s very big,” He notes softly, staring up at it,

“Yeah, she lets people stay there a lot, so it’s not just hers, she usually stays in the towers actually,” Tubbo says, the sudden change from ‘he’ to ‘she’ confuses him but he puts it off as a simple mistake,

The two lead him through other areas, both look a bit uncomfortable at the sight of the large hole, stretching larger than probably the castle or Billiam’s mansion ever did, he wonders in vague horror what caused it as he is led away,

“That’s church prime! I made it with, with,,,” Tommy trails off, breath a little shaky, “It doesn’t matter! I made it!”

“It’s nice,” He says softly, staring at the marble walls and stained glass windows,

“It survived a lot, I’m surprised it’s still standing,” Tubbo states, “It was one of the first builds on the server,”

Moon nods, following as the others keep going down the path, he pauses in place as he sees Tubbo turn around,

“Oh, that’s Quackity and his husbands, HEY QUACKITY!” Tubbo yells, walking back down the direction they came, waving,

Moon turns around, heart dropping to his stomach when he sees a familiar face,

Mr.Karl stands next to the man Tubbo is talking to, hands in a familiar brightly-colored hoodie, there is another man with the other two but Moon can’t even focus on it over the feeling of the world crashing down around him,

He feels one of his hands lift to Tommy’s sleeve, tugging on it repeatedly, hands trembling,

Tommy looks down at him confused, not knowing were his sudden seemingly complete terror is coming from, “Hey, it’s okay, they’re not mean or anything, well Sapnap can be a bit mean but none are gonna do anything,”

Moon shakes his head repeatedly, taking a step away from the three, resisting the urge to turn and run,

Apparently this alerts them because Karl looks up at Moon and pauses, it takes him a second to know were his face is from, last time he saw him he was in much worse state and wearing a mask, but a similar dread feels his stomach when he realizes who it is,

“Butler?” Karl asks, taking a step towards him that is responded with a step back, it’s almost a bit funny that the one who killed Karl last time is now the one who looks like he wants to run away,

Moon forces his face back to an empty neutral, betraying his fear, Billiam got mad when he cowered, or showed any emotion really, he doesn’t want to learn of Karl feels the same,

“How do you know him?” Tommy asks, tone just a bit defensive, ready to jump in the middle of Karl tried anything, everyone knew about the time traveling thing by now, but they hadn’t heard of Moon before,

“He killed me!” Karl says, his tone accusatory but not exactly mad, Moon still flinches away from it slightly though, taking another step back,

Moon swallows hard, balling one of his hands at his sides, digging his nails into his palm, “Words?” He says, voice choked and weak,

“Uh, three?” Karl says, remembering how many Billiam usually allowed him,

Moon’s heart drops further if possible, his voice feels physically taken, dragged out of his throat, he always hated the word count he was given, struggling to fit so many thoughts into just a few, how does he explain everything in three? How does he get his punishment excused with three?

He does not, that is the point,

“I am sorry,” He whispers, hearing a yell of surprise and feeling the ground beneath him shift as he teleports away.


	13. Comfort from a Traitor King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moon reminisces of the times of the egg, he meets Eret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a specific shoutout to the person last chapter who completely guessed what would happen in this one, bravo, have a cookie, hope you still enjoy it tho :>

The egg lies, he knows that, Billiam switches quickly between terrible punishments and almost overbearingly nice behavior.

He almost rathers when he’s worse, it is easier to accept someone just being bad than it is to have them caring and kind one minute and punishing you with days without food the next.

Hubert is still there, but he is drawn back from even Moon now, which is fine, it doesn’t bother him, nothing much does anymore.

He finds comfort in the Egg, sometimes going and just leaning against it. It lies, but it’s lies are soft and comforting.

The Egg is beautiful and disgusting, it is everything and nothing and it is him now too.

Masquerades happen more often, he wears the mask even out of them now, to hide his red eyes from Hubert, he’s pretty sure Hubert thinks its a trauma thing, maybe it is.

He does not do most of the killings, he simply gives out the weapon to whatever guest succumbs, watching the murders go down, safe from the slaughter.

It’s what he does, he guesses, watches, too shocked and scared to intervene, it’s what he’s done since Billiam exploded at the maid (who is missing by now) for dropping a plate, what he did when he received his first starvation, his first sleep deprivation, his first lashing, what he did when he was dragged into a cell for what must’ve been days.

The last person alive is his duty, the first time he can’t do it and Billiam punishes him with his first beating over not truly ‘loving the egg’, locking him in the cell again, it is less stressful now that he’s accepted it.

The vines do not bother him anymore most of the time, though sometimes it feels like he’s snapped back into place and he is left terrified by the feeling of them under his skin, scratching desperately to get them out.

He cries more than he used to, he wonders if the constant red puffiness around his eyes is from the egg or the crying, it doesn’t matter.

It is one day when he wakes up to find Hubert nowhere, not on a trip definitely, he just came back, he always at least stays a day.

He asks Billiam after searching for hours, stress clear in his voice as he tries to hide it.

Billiam’s small, barely-there smirk haunts his nightmares, makes him tremble and shake and want to cry,

“Oh, he ran away.”

Moon can’t breathe, he stumbles off into one of the hidden passageways and sobs, and screams, and cries until he can’t anymore and sits there trembling for hours, because Hubert is gone.

He finds a porcelain mask left on Hubert’s bedside table. He takes it and hides it in his room, it is one of the only things he cares about anymore.

At a masquerade party a guest asks his name, it’s almost surprising, though this has always been one of the nicer rich people to visit Billiam.

He opens his mouth to answer and finds,,,, nothing, nothing to answer with, an obvious void where something used to be, a gift from Hubert.

“Oh, he doesn’t have one,” Billiam says airily, sipping from his glass of wine, “Everyone knows poor people don’t have names,”

The rich person nods in agreement but looks confused, going back to the conversation, now more stilted and awkward.

His hands are trembling, trying desperately to pull forward the memory of his name, every single one is distorted, his name blanked out, nothing there.

After everyone is dead and the Egg fed he asks Billiam what his name was, he needs to know, needs to keep it.

“You don’t have one,” Billiam says with a shrug, “People have names, and you are not a person.”

He collapses to his knees, suddenly unable to breath.

Billiam leaves him there, in the cooing whispers of the egg.

The egg took one of the last things he had left that Hubert gave to him, and he mourns Hubert and himself in the same breath.

People have names, and he is not a person anymore.

That is the last time he cries for a very long time.

He doesn’t know were he teleported to, everything feels too distanced to focus, so he instead just leans against a cold, stone wall and slides down it, curling up tightly, whimpering into his knees,

He doesn’t know when tears start, just that suddenly his face is wet and he is desperately trying to wipe away the tears, only succeeding in smearing them further along his face,

He can hear his own wheezing breaths but can’t focus on trying to fix them, his chest aches and his wheezes are accompanied by coughs that steal away the little breath he manages to get,

He desperately covers his mouth to hide his coughs as he hears the sound of footsteps approaching, not helping his breathing in the slightest, trying to push himself further into the corner he’s in and flattening himself against the wall in a desperate attempt to not be seen,

It apparently doesn’t work as the footsteps pause a few feet in front of him and he whimpers against his will, shoving himself further against the wall,

“Oh,” The person says, their voice is deep but at the same time strangely soft, comforting, he refuses to believe it out of basic self preservation, “Are you new on the server?”

He doesn’t respond, he couldn’t if he tried, choking on every breath he tries to take in and coughing it out just as quickly, he wonders if he’ll suffocate to death here and be stuck again in the empty void of the afterlife,

“Oh, you’re probably having a panic attack,” The person says, “Can you speak?”

He shakes his head ‘no’ quickly, fearing punishment if he doesn’t answer quick enough,

“Thats okay, can I come closer?” They ask softly and he nods, mostly out of fear than of actual want for anyone to be close currently,

They walk closer in easy to track footsteps, crouching before him, “I’m Eret, you don’t have to tell me your name yet,”

He nods to show he’s listening, coughing wetly into his knees as he takes another breath in, his chest aching with the movement,

“Can I touch you?” Eret asks and he nods, slowly the person sets a hand on his back, mostly on his neck from him being pressed against a wall, and rubs soothing circles into it throughout his coughing fit,

“It’s okay, just cough it all out,” Eret soothes softly, shifting so they are sitting next to him instead of cornering him as much, it is so soothing that it forces more tears out of his eyes, “You’re going to be okay, it will pass,”

He nods, the coughing slowly subsiding into wheezing breaths, a little less quickly than before, “There, that's good, just focus on breathing, in and out,”

He listens, slowly matching his breathing to the exaggerated breaths that Eret is making for him to listen to, slowly leaning onto them, exhaustion overriding fear,

“There we go, are you back with me?” Eret asks and he nods, blinking open puffy and slightly blurry with tears eyes to look at them,

They have brown fluffy hair similar to Wilbur’s, with glasses covering their eyes, the lenses black. Their clothing is well made, a long red cloak draped around their shoulders,

“Can you talk?”

He nods,

“What is your name and pronouns?”

“Um, words?” He asks nervously, playing with the hem of his shirt,

“What?” Eret asks, not rudely but he suppresses a flinch anyways,

“Um, how many words am I allowed to use?” He specifies,

Eret blinks behind their sunglasses, “as many as you like?”

He shakes his head, no, words were enforced here, Karl used them,

“Okay, well, how about 15?” Eret suggests, sounding more than a little uncomfortable,

“Do I have to use them all?” He asks, wasting 7 words on the question,

“No, and you can use more,” Eret says, 

“What are pronouns?” He asks, another 3 wasted, that's 10.

“Oh, I guess you might not know that,” Eret responds, laughing softly, “It’s like, he/him are pronouns, so are she/her and they/them,”

“Oh,” He says, he wonders if that counts as one of his words, “I’m Moon, I don’t know,”

“That’s okay, are you okay with me using they/them for you until you can tell me what you use?”

“Yes,” He responds simply, Billiam got mad when he nodded while being told to use words,

“Do you think you can stand? I don’t think were you are is too comfortable,” 

“No,” That’s all his words, his throat kind of feels like it’s closing up again and he doesn’t like it,

“Okay, would you be okay with me carrying you so we can go somewhere more comfortable?”

He nods, uncurling himself slightly so he’s easier to lift, Eret gets up and after a second of thinking unclasps their cape, wrapping it around him as they lift him up, he holds back a wince at the arm pressing against the still-healing lashings on his back, they’d be healed by now if he kept drinking regen potions but they stopped a while ago,

They said it was for the infection, but maybe they just got sick of wasting resources on someone like him,

Eret carries them gently through corridors, the place they are in is large and open with windows shining light in, the warmth calms him a little bit and he finds himself leaning into Eret’s chest, tiredness seeping into his bones,

He blinks when he feels Eret shift, setting them down in a plush chair, looking around at his surroundings,

It is still definitely in the building he is in (what building is it? He couldn’t have teleported that far from where he was), the room is spacious like all the other ones are, sunlight streaming in onto the seats,

“Would you like some tea? I have chamomile,” Eret offers, one of their hands resting on Moon’s back but pulling away quickly when he flinches,

He tenses for a moment waiting for a strike that doesn’t come, looking up to only see Eret’s worried face,

He swallows, looking away and nodding, Eret nodding back, “I’ll go get some,”

He pulls the cape draped around him closer as Eret walks off, it helps a bit with the chill that seems to never escape his skin anymore, it reminds him a bit of the chill of the mansion, if Billiam wasn’t around he didn’t care to have things kept to heat it up, he doesn’t like those memories much,

He looks up at the sound of someone returning, Eret softly setting down a mug of steaming tea on the table next to his chair and placing a few more things carefully on a table in the middle of the chairs, a small tray of sugar and milk and a kettle,

“How many sugars?” Eret asks and he tentatively holds up two fingers, Eret nodding and dropping them into his tea,

He takes the mug carefully, it warms his hands and he sighs, the smell is calming and soothes the remaining anxiety in him,

Eret sits in one of the chairs across from him, legs crossed and blowing gently on their own tea, waiting for it to cool,  
He goes to take a sip of his tea and pauses, Billiam had poisoned food given to him before, with both potions and vines from the egg,

Eret raises a brow at their hesitation, “Do you not want it?” He asks,

He shakes his head ‘no’, hoping Eret takes it as him wanting it still and doesn’t get mad at him,

Eret looks more confused if anything, “That was a bad question, uh, do you want it?”

He shakes his head yes,

“Is it too hot?”

He shakes his head no,

Eret hums, before seeming to realize something “Do you think I put something in it,”

His lack of response seems to be a response enough and Eret rises, walking over “Would you feel more comfortable drinking it if I tried a sip to show that it is okay?”

He pauses before nodding, handing over the cup to Eret, who takes a sip of the tea to show that it isn’t poisoned before handing it back, “See, just normal tea and sugar,”

He nods, relaxing and taking a drink from the glass, it tastes completely normal,

“So, you’re new on the server, right?” Eret asks, sitting back down in their seat, their voice kind and inviting, conversational, taking a sip from their cup, much more sugar and milk than tea.

He nods but doesn’t say anything, he ran out of words already, he doesn’t want to get in trouble for talking out of turn,

“That’s nice, are you the one staying with Techno recently? Tommy told us all about it on the coms but he told us to stay away, so it’s a bit surprising to see you so early,”

He nods again, drinking through his tea slowly, keeping Eret’s cloak pulled tight around him like it might hide him away,

Eret seems a bit disappointed by their lack of actual response but doesn’t push, just humming softly in acknowledgment, “Did Tommy bring you out?”

He nods, 

Eret huffs fondly, leaning back further, “That explains it, kid is always dragging others into trouble, not that I think you did anything bad,”

He frowns but doesn’t reply, looking over out one of the windows, the sun is shining a bright orange, it hurts his eyes just a tiny bit, the warmth of the sun and the tea does nothing to help the incredible tiredness that lays across him,

He brings his cup up for another drink and finds it empty, blinking at it a bit,

“Oh, I’ll take that for you,” Eret says, taking the cup softly, when did they rise? And leaving the room to take it to the kitchen.

It wouldn’t hurt to shut his eyes for a second, right? He leans back against the chair, sighing softly as he slowly slides into a dreamless, hazy sleep.


End file.
